#batty writes

It was your birthday again and so much had changed in the past year. Aaron was now a common fixture in your relationship, he’d joined you on many adventures and you wouldn’t have it any other way. This year you took charge of planning your birthday celebration, telling the boys to be prepared for instructions but stay out of your way. You planned a whole weekend, three days of pure self-indulgence and debauchery far enough away from your home that you didn’t have to worry about running into people as much. On Wednesday night you met up with the boys and went over the itinerary.

“Okay, so Aaron is driving the first leg. We’re making a pitstop at this medieval museum I found, because I want to, and then we’ll continue on to-” you stand in front of the two men seated on your couch, only occasionally looking up from the schedule you’d printed out. Spencer and Aaron both looked at you with such love in their eyes, amused by your sudden take-charge behavior knowing how different you behaved with them normally. Aaron raised his hand to be called on, you smiled and pointed at him, “go ahead.” “Should I bring anything specific from my collection for you,” he lowers his hand. You wave him off jokingly, “we’ll get to gear in a second, that’s later.” “Oh gosh,” your boyfriend laughs, giving Hotch a look that conveys his adoration for you. You continue on with the list, discussing locations, what the men should wear, and what to mentally prepare for.

Thursday morning you load up the car, ready for a whole day of driving to get to your favorite club outside of your local homes away from home. Reid and Aaron are dressed comfortably and you thank whatever force is in charge of the universe for making both their ideas of ‘comfortable’ to be loose T’s and sweatpants. The first leg of the trip is a breeze. Hotch scolds you for putting your feet on the dash when you decide to take a nap. Reid following it up with statistics about car accidents and legs in improper positions, you shoot back asking for statistics on car accidents where two people were fucking in the backseat at the time of the crash and he closes his mouth while Aaron chuckles quietly. When you get to the museum you take the lead, wandering around and sharing your own facts. Spencer lets you even though he has to literally bite his tongue a few times so he doesn’t say the fact before you have a chance. The second leg involves you and Hotch curled in the backseat to nap while Spencer listens to an audiobook of some sort. You have your head on his shoulder, both arms wrapped around his right arm, with his head draped over top yours. Spencer wakes you when you reach the town your hotel’s in, him rousing you both gently as he can. You check into your hotel and collapse on the bed. The boys put away your suitcases, Spencer getting out pajamas for all three of you as Hotch tries to figure out the television. You all get into your clothes and crawl into bed to hibernate for a while. You rented a room with a massive king bed so you could bury yourself between the two men. You fall asleep with your head on Spencer’s warm chest and one of Aaron's arms wrapped around your waist.

Friday morning you wake to the best feeling. Aaron is laid on his back with a hand draped across you, his wide palm resting on the plush of your hip with his forearm applying a soft pressure to the space below your bellybutton. Your boyfriends arm is still under your head and his head is tilted to press his cheek against your crown. You are so warm and cozy that you let your eyes close again and drift back off to sleep. The next time you wake up you’re wrapped tightly in your boyfriend's arms while he looks at his phone screen behind your head. “Mmf, baby,” you ask quietly, voice still thick with sleep. Spencer tilts his face to meet your eyes, “oh, good morning angel. Hotch went to find us breakfast, he’ll be back in a bit.”’ You stretch your legs and curl deeper into Spencer's arms, “okay. That’s nice of him.” “It sure is,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I didn’t even have to ask.” You nuzzle against his chest as sleep starts to tighten its grip on you, “he’s so nice.” “Mhm,” Spencer agrees, amusement apparent in his voice. Approximately seven minutes later you hear the beep of the hotel room door and soft swish of it brushing over the carpet as it swings open. “Is she up,” Aaron whispers. You turn in your boyfriends arms, “yup, sure am,” you smile at him. He sets down a steaming tray of breakfast foods at the foot of the bed as you and Spencer detangle yourselves from each other, “happy birthday sweetheart.” Spencer chimes in with, “happy birthday pretty girl,” and rubs an open palm over your back. “Thank you guys,” you beam up at them.

After breakfast you get dressed for a day of activities. You wear a breezy outfit for the warm weather, your hair pulled back to help keep from overheating. Your day is filled with shopping, browsing, museums, and good food. You eventually end up back at the hotel to prep for the night's plans.

“Baby, can you make sure our play bag is all packed,” you call over your shoulder as you put on an earring in the mirror. Spencer rustles through something behind you, “sure thing!” Aaron is currently occupying the bathroom as he dries off before getting dressed and you wait for him to vacate so you can do your makeup. Just as you start to shift gears to putting on your clothes while you wait, the door clicks open behind you. You gather your things and skitter into the bathroom before your boyfriend can get in your way. With it being your birthday you want to look perfect and special. You cover your lids with glitter, your lips with a deep colored lipstick that you save for special occasions, and dot the corners of your eyes with rhinestones. You slip on your outfit, a sleek black PVC mini dress pulled over a mesh three piece set. Your top has small rhinestones along the underwire and the edge of the cups, matching rhinestones line the edge on your underwear and garter belt, a few dripping down the straps holding up your stockings. Your dress is snug in all the best ways, accentuating curves and shining in the bright light of the bathroom. You give yourself a final once over in the mirror before pulling the door open.

When you look into the hotel room you see Spencer and Hotch are still getting ready, both standing shirtless on separate sides of the bed unfolding their shirts. “Well happy birthday to me,” you chuckle, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. The men both look up at you, you can see Aaron's grin over his shoulder as he turns slightly. Spencer's eyes shine as he drags them down your form, taking in your appearance. Hotch drags a hand down his face and turns his back to you again and you and Spencer giggle. “Don’t laugh at me,” Aaron gruffs at you two, “we don’t have time for what I want to do with you looking like that.” “Understandable,” Reid chuckles. You wait for the men to get ready, putting on and buttoning their shirts, fixing their hair, packing their masks. While they do their thing you put on your vanilla outfit over your club outfit. You throw on a long black cocktail dress and a shawl that hangs around the small of your back. Spencer wraps an arm around your waist, your gear bag slung over his shoulder, "you ready to go?” You look up at him and nod, glancing over your shoulder to find Hotch waiting behind you. You make your way through the hotel, looking as if you’re off to a nice dinner and not a dark club full of deviants, and find your car in the lot. The drive to the club is soundtracked with Spencer and Aaron discussing the plans for the night excitedly. After finding a parking spot, you grab the duffel bag from the trunk and hoist it onto your shoulder.

“Need help,” Hotch asks. “I’ve got it,” you chirp, bounding over to meet the men on the sidewalk. Normally you don’t show affection between three of you in public, but here, mere feet from the club you take their hands in yours. Aaron smiles down at your hand in his, Spencer automatically squeezing you gently. You enter the club, show your IDs, and pay the door fee. You’re led into a corridor by a man in a shiny latex shirt and shorts. The tag on his thick leather collar clinks as he bows his head and walks back to the lobby. You hang up your shawl on a hanger and move your hair out of the way so Spencer can unzip your dress. You hang up the dress and turn to face the men. You’re greeted with them both wearing their masks, Reid's crooked smile and a burning stare from Hotch. You exit the corridor through a thick curtain and are met with the main room of the club. Half of the room is cleared to be a dance floor with a small stage in a far corner. A bar takes up most of the opposite wall and there’s stairs leading to an upper and a lower floor. Tucked against the back wall behind the stairs is a lounge full of deep velvet couches and chairs.

Spencer heads for the lounge, looking for some privacy. The club has just opened so it’s still mostly empty, but you know he’ll want quiet for this next bit. He sets the duffle bag on a plush couch and Hotch immediately takes the seat next to it, almost protectively. You reach down and unzip a side pocket on the bag. You let your fingers run across the smooth leather before pulling the collar out. The click of the buckle on the back is enough to let your mind start to fall into that deep, dark, cozy place you cherish. You hold the collar in your hands, heavy with the weight of your own submission and every beautiful memory you’ve made while wearing it. You sink to your knees delicately, bow your head, and raise your hands above your head to present the midnight colored leather. You close your eyes and let the fog of your headspace fall over you. Spencer pulls your hair gently over your shoulder before finding your chin and lifting your head slightly to access your neck. Your whole body heats up at his touch, a fizzle that starts in your head and trails down your spine. You let out a huff as you try to catch your breath. Spencer's agile fingers slide the cool material around your throat. He pulls one end through the buckle and clasps it around you. The click of the padlock and a kiss on the crown of your head is the final thing to lock you in your headspace. “There we are, angel,” he whispers against your hair. Ready to serve. Ready to please.

The three of you sit on the sofa as you watch the room fill up. You rest your head against Spencer's shoulder, your legs draped over Aaron's lap as he absentmindedly strokes your calf. “Angel,” Reid shifts to gaze down at you. “Yes,” you meet his eyes and shift your body against him. He grins at you, ever pleased with your eagerness for him, “get us some drinks, something you know we’ll like. Get yourself one too.” “Yes Sir,” you chirp and hop off the couch. You practically bounce away to the nearby bar, excited to be in your happy place yet again. Once the drinks are ready you balance them and make your way back to the lounge. You lean down to present the drinks to your partners.

Hotch takes his and lets his fingers tips graze your knuckles for a second longer than necessary, “thank you darling.” Reid leans over to him and whispers something you can’t pick up over the music. You do pick up the grin that breaks out across Aaron’s face though. “Kneel,” he points to the ground in front of him, the grin turning into a stern line across his face. You obey immediately and lower yourself to the floor before him. He leans forward and crowds your space. His calloused fingers grip your chin, his thumb promptly swiping across your cheek before he tilts your head back. You practically feel the command before you hear it, “open.” The music thumps through you as you open your mouth, tilting your head back slightly more. You watch his eyes as he takes your drink from your hand and tilts the glass over your face. The cool drink splashes into the back of your throat and you try your hardest to ignore the burning flush that starts to creep across your skin. The hints of liquor burn down your throat as you swallow what he gives you, hints of fruit and syrups clinging to your taste buds. “Such a good girl,” Spencer coos, watching over Hotch's shoulder. Hotch releases your face and you wipe the spilled remnants from your face before giving them a wide smile. Aaron pats his knee and you rest your chin there, happily accepting his fingers brushing through your hair. You have about thirty minutes before the shows upstairs start so you sit and accept small touches and praises as the two men above you engage in their own conversation.

A green light clicks on above the stairs, your signal that shows will start in approximately five minutes. “Up, sweetheart,” Spencer flicks his finger towards the ceiling along with the command. You rise to your feet, keeping your eyes tilted to the ground as the two men take the lead heading for the stairs. Upstairs there are multiple rooms with small placards explaining what’s going on inside for the night. You pass many rooms showcasing many different things, ‘group play, wax, sadists 101, electro,’ and many more. You come to a halt suddenly in front of a room labeled, ‘pet show.’ Spencer leads your group in and finds a seat near an outer corner. There are seats arranged to curve around the main stage, a wide open flat part of the room with lights pointed down at it to bathe the audience in darkness.

Your boyfriend points to the floor in front of his seat, but you’re already on the way to your place at his side. He runs a hand over your hair and lets his fingers play with the padlock on the back of your neck. Other patrons fill the seats around you. You see folks of all kinds in all sorts of outfits and dynamics. A few seats from you a beautiful woman is crouched in front of another woman, her hair pulled back to show off the dazzling rhinestoned collar around her neck. She gives you an enthusiastic smile as you make eye contact. You wave and return the smile, admiring her outfit and the adoration in the eyes of her partner. The already dim lights over the seating area shut off completely as the show starts. A curtain at the side of the stage moves and a woman dressed in a deep blue latex bodysuit emerges. She glances behind her just as a man in a jockstrap appears on his hands and knees. He’s wearing the cutest puppy ears and tail and his chest harness is attached to a leash being held by the woman. They take their place in the center of the room and the woman starts to give commands. He follows every one happily and when they bow to end the first phase of the show the crowd claps politely. “Come here girl,” the woman shouts towards the curtain. Another woman in matching ears and tail trots out from backstage. She stops to sit in front of the woman and raises her hands in the air above her head.

“Aren’t you such a good girl,” the woman’s voice is cool and vaguely condescending in a way that tugs at your core. She places the other pups leash in her hands and disappears backstage. After just a moment she returns with a shining metal chair and places it behind the man still sat on the floor. Your curiosity is piqued as you wonder what will happen next. You sneak a glance at your partners and find them thoroughly entranced with the performance. “Up, puppy,” the woman pats the seat of the chair and the male puppy eagerly takes a seat on the cool metal. She turns to the other woman and smiles, “go take a seat, my good girl.” Turning on her knees the girl crawls off to the front row and plops herself down in front of someone. The woman in the dark blue bodysuit circles the man, dragging a pointed nail across his shoulder and upper back. The puppy whines and you can see his body tense slightly. Your own body is tense as well, heat coiling and swirling as you let the anticipation claw at you. You can sense the men behind you, enraptured by the show and no doubt planning future scenes for the three of you.

“Aww, you’ve been waiting so patiently, huh,” she asks, leaning forward to meet his eyes. He nods his head and bites his lip, “mhm.” “Well what do good puppies get,” she tilts her head, “hmm?” “R-rewarded,” his voice comes out uncertain like he senses a trap. She nods her head and turns to the audience, “what do we think? Should puppy get rewarded?” There's hoots and cheers from the crowd, you let out a quiet whoop and glance at Spencer. He gives you a fond smile and brushes his knuckles over your cheek lovingly. “Well he did put on a good show for you guys so I suppose he’s earned something.” She stands behind him and leans forward as she drags her nails down his chest. He whines and twists his face from where he was watching her hands move. She gets to the quickly growing bulge between his thighs and swirls a finger over the straining fabric. You press your thighs together and try to fight the urge to climb on one of your partners. You feel a little crazy having to suppress your urges in such a public space, but you live for this kind of feeling. “Bark for me puppy,” the woman's voice comes out more wicked than before, commanding.

He listens instantaneously, barking and yipping for her. She presses her face against his neck then opens her mouth to drag her tongue over his jugular. He whimpers between barks as she tugs the fabric down and releases his cock. Before he has time to whine again she wraps her clawed hands around the reddened flesh and presses her other hand onto his thigh. “Thank you Mistress,” he keens as he turns his face to hide in her long hair. The hand on his thigh comes up to grip his hair, tearing his head back out of the shadows of her locks, “no, no puppy, don’t hide from our wonderful viewers.” She pumps her hand up his length, eliciting a sinful moan from deep in his chest. She stops and his hips move on their own, thrusting into her hand as he pants and groans. “Should I just let him fuck my hand until he’s finished, or do we make this more interesting,” she asks the audience.

There’s responses from the crowd, mostly shouted over each other so you can’t make them out. You turn your head and see the woman you waved at earlier is burying her face in her partner's cunt as the woman watches the show. The need that’s been slowly growing in your gut is suddenly unbearable. You turn your attention to Spencer and Aaron and find them both looking at you already. Your gaze falls to your boyfriend's lap and you’re delighted to find a familiar sight. You find his eyes again, asking for permission, and he smiles at you. There’s a heat behind it that you know means fun things are approaching. He flicks his finger up to make you rise from the floor. You get up on your knees and he leans till his lips brush your ear. “You can make us feel good, but remember we have plans later,” you can feel your heart jump as he murmurs against you, knowing what’s coming later.

You make quick work of his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper fast enough that it would be embarrassing how eager you are if you were in a different headspace. You tuck your fingers under the waistband of his briefs and slide down until you feel the heat radiating from him. You grasp his length and pull it from the confines of his clothing. A gasp falls from his lips as you lean forward and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock right away. You run your tongue in circles around the head before you open your mouth like you’re about to take him in. As he grits in preparation, no doubt to hide the noise that will escape him as soon as you engulf his dick, you quickly move your head and hands away. You avoid looking at the playful scowl that’s probably etched in his face as you turn your attention to Hotch. You undo his pants with the same speed as Spencers and quickly free his length. You give him the same treatment, running your tongue over him and pulling away before he can be inside the plush heat of your mouth. You let drool fall from your tongue to drip over his crown before using your hand to spread it. When you feel sufficiently lubricated, you go to work pumping your hand up and down. You swap back over to Spencer, keeping your hand moving on Aaron, and take him into your mouth without any time for him to prepare. He lets out a gasp loud enough that he might be feeling a little embarrassed at the attention it drew, “oh f-fuck,” he whines quietly, finally silencing himself as he bites his lip. You bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue over the overheating flesh and trying to work in time with the hand that’s on Hotch. “Mmf, shit,” you hear him growl next to you as you swipe your thumb over his slit. You let Reid out of your mouth with a pop, promptly grabbing him at the base and dragging your tongue across his skin, before taking him into your mouth again. You feel his hand tangle in your hair and you can’t help but throb. He presses down on your head until your nose nestles into the curls that decorate his base. He holds you there and gently rocks his hips, fucking into your throat. When he finally releases you, your head shoots up with a gasp. Spit runs down your chin and you wipe it away quickly and try to dive back in, but Spencer stops you. Hotch grabs your wrist to stop your hand and you almost whine at how unfair this feels. “Watch the rest of the show and we’ll continue this later,” Aaron points back to the stage that you had all but forgotten about.

You turn and sit back down, trying not to look like you’re pouting. On the stage the woman has her hand wrapped tightly around the pup's cock as she works to get him off. His hands are gripping the seat of the chair like he’s afraid he’ll fly away and his whole chest and neck are red with marks from the woman's nails and his own straining. She takes one hand and curls her finger, beckoning the girl from before, “come here my darling.”

The girl makes her way back to the stage, tail swishing as she crawls, and sits herself right in front of the man. “Spin,” the woman commands her, twirling her finger in the air. The puppy spins, eagerly looking at her scene partners when she gets to face them again. The woman picks up the speed of her hand and the man writhes under her, “such a good girl, lay down.” She does as she’s told, wiggling on the floor as she waits for her next command. “Roll over,” she’s quick to obey, the admiration on her partners face all the reward she seems to need. “M-Mistress,” the male puppy whines, “I’m s-so cl-” She cuts him off, “hold on baby, our darling Scarlet needs to finish her tricks first.” The female pup, Scarlet, wiggles happily on the floor. “Sit,” the woman demands, her hand scratching across the man's scalp as his eyes seem to roll back in his head. “Shake,” she says but doesn’t move her hand. Scarlet raises her hand to shake but nothing happens. The woman tugs on his hair, “shake. Come on, shake puppy.” He keens as tears prick his eyes, barely visibly on his waterline from where you’re seated. He reaches out a hand and shakes with the other puppy. “So good for me you two. How close are you baby,” she squeezes his cock to punctuate her question. “S-so, so-o, so close,” he practically cries.

She drags her hails down his throat and chest again, “open Scarlet.” She opens her mouth and presents her tongue. The woman grabs the ponytail at the back of her head and shoves the man's length into her mouth. He moans like he’s in the best agony of his life. Scarlet wags her tail as she takes what he gives her, eventually backing off and licking any remnants off his dick. She spins to face the crowd and sticks her tongue out, showing you all that she’s swallowed every drop she was given. The woman waves a goodbye and slings the man's arm over her shoulder. As the trio walk out you can hear the woman murmuring reassuring things to the puppies. The crowd shows their appreciation for the show through clapping, cheering, and a cacophony of moans as the audience participation continues. Your crew grabs their things and makes their way outside the room. Hotch looks down at you and smiles, pressing his hand against the small of your back, “do you want to catch another show or are you ready?” You’re practically buzzing with pent up energy, not to mention that you’re afraid you might be dripping down your thighs by now, “I’m ready,” you nod. You make your way down the stairs, stopping at the bar for water, and descend the final staircase to the dungeon downstairs. The dungeon is a huge space, with private rooms on the west side, show rooms on the east, and a massive open floor in the middle that’s littered with sceneing areas and all kinds of furniture perfect for your most devious desires.

You called ahead and let them know you’d be liking a show room at some point in the night for a birthday scene so you make your way over. Your boyfriend approaches a DM and lets them know what is planned. As you wait, Hotch pulls you aside. “How are you feeling,” he toys with your hair, twirling it around a finger. The way he leans down to talk to you makes you feel boxed in in the best way possible, “I’m feeling good. Excited.” He drags a hand up your neck to cup your cheek, “what are you most excited for?” You think for a moment, “for you guys to use me in front of everyone. For me to show everyone how good I can be for you,” you give him an almost innocent smile. His eyes darken, lids pressing lower as he flattens his mouth into a line to hide how much he wanted to hear that. “We’re going to make such a mess of you,” he murmurs almost like it isn’t meant for your ears.

The room is set up with a chaise lounge straight out of a vampire romance novel. The deep red velvet and dark wood works perfectly with the dim moody lights. Next to it is a spanking bench that matches the St Andrews cross in the back corner. There’s a table to the right side of the room for you to place your gear and seats for spectators to sit in. On the left side of the room there’s a door that leads to a separate smaller room, one you’ll explore after your scene. Spencer takes your hand and guides you to the center of the room as Hotch sets down your gear bag on the long table and lays things out. He holds your hands in his and meets your eyes. “Before we open the doors to everyone else, how are you feeling,” his voice takes on that shade of sincerity that makes your head fuzzy, like he has every intent to treat you like a treasure and keep you safe. You smile up at him, “Good, Hotch and I talked a bit outside and I’m excited.” “That’s good. Do you remember your safeword baby?” “Yes Sir,” you nod.

His eyes flick up as you feel a presence at your back. Aaron's hands snake around your waist to hold you. You let them balance and ground you, their touch a reminder that you’re not here alone and you’re not in any danger. Aaron’s voice comes out honey sweet, “tell us what they are sweetheart.” “Red and yellow,” your voice comes out softer than you mean, but it fits how soft the moment is.

Reid pulls you into a warm hug, Hotch wrapping his arms around the both of you so you’re pressed between the two men. Your head goes completely foggy as you fall into the scene whole heartedly, the pressure of their bodies against you is absolutely delicious. Aaron walks over to the door and opens it. You can see through the gap between his body and the doorframe that they’ve propped a chalkboard sign in front of the door that reads ‘birthday scene.’ He returns to the center of the room with you and Spencer mouths something at him that you can’t make out. His nimble fingers reach the zipper at your back, starting to slowly tug it down. The cool air kisses your exposed back, the chill sliding down your spine as he reveals more and more of you. Your dress finally cascades to the floor and you step out of it. Aaron places it on the table and is just as quickly back at your side. His broad hands grip your hips and he guides you to the lounge. You climb onto the sofa and rest your forearms on the backrest. You arch your back and sway your hips slightly, trying to tempt the men before the scenes even really gotten started. You can hear people filing in, the soft scuffing of shoes and the clinks of buckles and chains that you’re sure people are wearing.

Spencer takes his place in front of your face, watching over your head as people fill the seats. After a moment he leans down to whisper in your ear, “are you ready angel?” “Yes Sir,” you beam up at him, on the brink of becoming impatient as the anticipation continues to rise in you. He glances at Aaron, giving him a look that acts as a signal. You hear his heavy footsteps leave you and a soft sound of him picking up an implement. You strain your ears to try and identify which tool he’ll be using, but it’s too quiet for you to really tell. The heavy steps approach you again and you swear your hair stands on end as he looms over you from behind. Spencer reaches forward and draws a hand across your face. You automatically lean into his touch, letting your eyes close as you accept his tenderness before the cruelty starts. “Have you been good, my angel,” his voice takes on that frightening quality you love, the sound of barely there restraint and a fire that you love to play with and tempt into burning you. You nod before remembering to use your words, “yes Sir, I have.” “Are you ready to show everyone how good you are for us?” “Yes Sir.”

Aaron's hands run over the globes of your ass, squeezing slightly and warming your skin. You bite down on a whimper at the surprise, not ready to show how desperate you are yet. He chuckles darkly as his grip tightens. “Don’t hold back, show everyone how much of a slut you are,” his voice rolls over you, a heavy syrup that pulls you farther into your headspace. One hand leaves your ass and you instinctually tense to prepare for an impact that doesn’t come. “Don’t flinch,” Spencer says gently, but you know he means business. You focus your eyes on his and ground yourself, not letting the nervous energy of so many eyes on your most intimate places get to you. While you’re busy paying attention to your boyfriend, Hotch is making his next move. His bare hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud ‘smack!’

You don’t hide the whimper that climbs up your throat this time. Reid smirks above you as he watches your eyebrows press together and your face redden. “That’s better,” comes the voice from behind you. His hand comes down again on the other side, slightly harder, and before you have time to react he’s going back and forth smacking your left then right side with no breaks. You whine and press your face into Spencer's chest looking for some reprieve. He passes a hand over your hair and shushes you. “Just let it out baby.” Something hits you, it feels cold and hard as it swipes across your flesh. Hotch has picked up whatever implement he took from the table and is now using it on you. A cold edge of something drags up and down your spine at a torturously slow pace. A shudder runs over you as the anticipation builds. He twirls the point of whatever is in his hands against the curve of your ass before you hear a sudden snap of something making contact with your skin. It takes a moment for the pain to hit you, blooming slowly against you as your brain catches up to what just happened. “Oh fuck,” you keen, dropping your head to the backrest of the chaise.

“How are we doing down here,” Spencer asks as he moves your hair and presses a kiss to the back of your neck. You pant out, “g-good.” “Perfect,” he whispers back. He hooks his fingers under your chin and pulls you back to your upright position. You give him the best puppy dog eyes you can to ask for a kiss and he happily grants your wish. He pulls you forward and crashes his lips into yours, but what you hoped would partially satiate the fire in you only makes it worse. You can feel how wet you are, how the mesh material clings to your skin, how it’ll probably stick to you when one of your partners finally pulls it down your legs to fuck you out of your misery. His lips work against yours and it distracts you enough that you don’t hear Aaron get another tool and line up a hit. You can identify this one. It’s a thick leather paddle you got while on vacation in Chicago, deep purple that shines in the light as it flies towards its target. It’s a fucking mean one. “Ah, shit,” you shriek as you launch yourself towards Spencer, “ohmygod.”

The men laugh quietly. Aaron rubs his hand harshly over the red spot left in the paddle's wake. “Aw, is that one too much,” he taunts. You shake your head, even as you cling to Spencer's arms, “n-no, I can take it.” “That’s what I like to hear,” his voice is barbed with a sadistic kind of joy as he rears his hand back again. You hold onto Spencer as he hits you repeatedly. You look into his eyes and find no sympathy behind them. The only thing you can see in his gaze is a hunger and you intend to give him exactly what he’s hungry for. You roll your hips into the next hit and moan so loud you worry you’ll hurt someone's ears. “Th-thank you Sirs,” you groan. Hotch pulls on your ankles suddenly, the paddle abandoned on the sofa. You flounder slightly as he pulls you to where your legs are stretched and he can lean over you to look you in the eyes. “What are you thankful for,” he nearly growls. You stammer, “s-showing me off and letting everyone se-see how much of a slut I am.” He hums deep in his chest, “good. Now then,” he glances up at Spencer and nods, “how about you pick the finishing toy?”

You look between the two men, asking for permission, “can I?” “Sure thing angel, it is your birthday after all,” there’s something sinister in his smile. You turn to face the table. You let your eyes dance over every implement you brought, eventually landing on your choice. You point at one near the end of the table. The men follow your direction to the tool of your choosing. “Are you sure,” Reid questions quietly. It’s a long, thick acrylic paddle. One side has small metal studs, the other side smooth and shining. Aaron clicks his tongue and walks over to the table, “well, alright then. Sweetheart is feeling brave.” You smile proudly, turning back to lean against the back of the chaise, despite the growing apprehension in your gut at what’s about to happen. Spencer takes the lead on the next part, “today is our beautiful angel's birthday, so we’re going to have her count and you are welcome to join in.” “Ready baby,” he asks down at you, done addressing the crowd. You take a deep breath and steel yourself, “yes Sir.”

You don’t watch as Reid confirms with Hotch, you stare down at the noticeable bulge in his pants and smile, just as the paddle hits you. The crowd cheers, “one!” “Ohh god,” you moan,dropping your head and trying to not completely collapse. Hotch warns, “count sweetheart.” “One,” you whine. He continues to hit you as you count along with the audience. Your skin feels like it's burning and while you revel in the attention and how much everyone else seems to love your show, you also ache all over. Your skin is too hot, your body too tired, your head swimming too much, but you continue on because you know it’s worth it. The way it hurts, the way your ass will look all black and blue tomorrow, the way it stings and aches is worth it. You finally get to the final few strikes and your head is so floaty you feel like you’ll never come down from this high. ‘And I thought the last one was mean,’ you think to yourself. You shout out the final number and let yourself go limp. Spencer leans forward, his chest covering your head, and rubs his hands over your burning skin.

You whine and grasp onto his shirt, “ssshhh, I know baby,” he soothes. Distantly you hear someone say the shows not over but you don’t pay it any attention. You let yourself recover a moment before the next part of the night. Your breath comes heavy and hot as you hear Aaron shuffle around you. Finally he bends over you, caging you against the couch, “how are we doing? Do you want to keep going?” You nod more aggressively than you mean to. His hand trails down your body, delicately dancing over the quickly forming bruises on your rear, and slips two fingers against your still clothed cunt. He presses ever so gently and pulls back when you whimper into Reid's shirt.

Despite barely touching you, even over your underwear, his fingers come back wet. “Oh yeah, she’s ready,” he grins at Spencer. He nods in response and presses a kiss to your spine. He grabs your arms and lifts you back up. Aaron's fingers slip under the thong that’s resting on your hips and starts to tug it down. You were right, the fabric sticks to your arousal, a thin string connecting you as the material is slipped down your warm thighs. “Would you look at that,” Aaron marvels at the sight. You can almost hear Spencer's lips curve into a smile, “beautiful. Always such a needy mess for us.” He reaches around you and drags a finger through your folds. You whine and try to stop your hips from bucking against him. The very tip of his finger enters you. He moves so slowly that you almost tell him to hurry up, but stop yourself as you know it’ll only result in another spanking or worse, him going slower. When the knuckles of his fist press against you he hooks his finger and presses against that soft spot inside you that makes sparks fly behind your eyes. You twitch around him and tug on his shirt tighter. “So sensitive already, we haven’t even really touched you yet,” Spencer teases.

You squirm as he adds a second finger, already feeling the warmth building in your gut. You can feel eyes on you, the audiences and your partners. They crawl across your skin and worm into your mind in the most intoxicating way. If it was physically possible you’d fear your brain would slide out of your ear the next time you turn your head. Hotch grabs your tits with his calloused hands, the scrape against your skin grounding you. He doesn’t squeeze very hard, more rolling them in his hands. Spencer suddenly pulls back, standing back to his full height, and you whine. You lean back to look at him and watch as he sucks his fingers into his mouth to taste you. He looks almost animalistic as he stares down at you, lust blowing his pupils so wide they almost swallow his beautiful amber irises. You can’t help the little gasp that leaves you at the sight, him so utterly drunk on you without even having his cock in you yet. It was enough to drive you crazy if you weren’t careful. You don’t even let yourself imagine how Aaron must be looking at you right now, the thought of both of them together was too much to handle in front of the present company. You hear the sound of a belt buckle behind you and start clenching around nothing as you prepare. Spencer grabs your jaw, tilting your head up to look at you better, “you better be good for us. Wouldn’t want to embarrass us in front of so many people.” “I’ll be good, I swear,” you try to nod in his grip.

His eyebrows tick up for a second, “careful. Add a please in there and you’re just begging. You’re not desperate enough to beg, are you?” You whimper quietly. Whenever Spencer's meaner side was out it was a crazy time. Normally he was a very soft Dom, focused on praise and making you feel good, but every once in a while he accessed a darker part of himself that delighted you. He never got as mean as Hotch could be, but he did condescending and teasing so damn well. “N-no,” you shake your head uncertainly. His lips stretch into a smirk, “are you sure?” “Mhm, I am.” He squints his eyes slightly, challenging, “that’s too bad. I think I'd be more giving if you’d beg,” he turns his eyes to Aaron, “what about you?” “Oh, absolutely,” he barely even lets Reid finish his sentence. You whine, lips pulling down into a frown. Hotch chuckles, “what’s wrong, is that too embarrassing for you?” “I-” you start, promptly being interrupted by your boyfriend. “Oh, so you can sit here with your pussy dripping in front of,” he pauses, pretending to count the people in the room, “25 people, but you can’t say please? Interesting place to draw the line.” Aaron chuckles over your shoulder, “maybe,” he bends forward until his cheek presses against yours, “we should all put our clothes back on and go home. Hm?”

You know they aren’t serious, but you react frantically anyways, “nonono! I can be good, I swear! I’ll beg, I’ll do anything you ask, please!” You see the smile spread across your boyfriend's face, but you keep going. “Please, I need you. I need you inside me, I’ll do whatever you want, just please give it to me-” Spencer suddenly covers your mouth and looks up to Aaron, “give it to her.” Before you can even think to react, Aaron’s head is notched at your entrance and pushing forward. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, brutally sliding all the way in until his hips meet yours. “Mmf, fuck,” he groans to himself. Your eyes roll back in your head and you can’t even seem to make noise as your mouth falls open beneath Spencer's hand. Hotch starts to move after giving you what feels like 30 seconds and simultaneously 30 years. The weight of his cock as it rocks in and out makes your lower half tingle, already devastatingly overwhelmed from the cocktail of things happening to you. “That better angel,” Spencer asks, voice dripping with mock comfort. Normally you would glare at him, say something sassy, or do something to provoke him, but your mind isn’t in a state for that so you just take his mockery. Your chest heaves as Aaron grips your hips like you’re going to run away. Pleasure pools in your core, filling the gaps in your headspace that tell you to worry about how you look or sound in front of so many people, letting you focus on how good this all feels. Spencer's hand trails down until it’s wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to force you to focus on him. “You want to put that pretty mouth to use,” he asks almost coldly. You tense around Hotch at Spencer's voice, pathetically whining instead of saying any actual words, and open your mouth for him. “Soooooo good, sweetheart,” you hear Aaron growl behind you, his grip no doubt pressing bruises into the soft skin.

Your boyfriend looks down at you lovingly, his expression delicately balanced between loving, possessive, and full of lust. He lets go of you to undo his pants and you let your attention fall back to Hotch. His cock drags in and out of you at a sluggish pace. He seems to have slowed down so Spencer can catch up to where you are. You want to whine, you want to push your hips back on him faster, you want to beg, but you know it’ll get you nowhere. Reid's fingers apply gentle pressure to your jawline, turning you to face him again. You open your mouth almost on reflex, ready for whatever he gives you. “You’re so well behaved today angel,” he croons, “you just want to put on a good show for everybody, huh?”

You can't seem to take your eyes off his dick, just inches from your face and already leaking for you, but you nod anyway. “Then let's show them what you’ve got,” he smirks. You lean forward, immediately swirling your tongue around the crown of his cock. His hands find your hair and hold you in place as he presses forward into your mouth. You welcome him with a moan, eliciting a matching sound from his lips. You start to bob your head, taking him deeper on every push forward. Hotch chuckles behind you and quickens his pace. You start to lose yourself. The pressure building in your core is quickly reaching a fever pitch and you know that even if you wanted to stop it you couldn't. You press your tongue to the underside of Spencer and tighten yourself around Aaron, hoping to drag them down with you. “F-fuck,” you hear from above, “just like t-that.”

Aaron presses a thumb into one of your bruises and you keen around Spencer, your whole body trying to twist away from the feeling even as you’re held tight in place. You whimper something that’s supposed to be words and you’re just met with a vicious laugh, “let yourself go and maybe I’ll be nicer.” You swear Aaron's voice is some kind of stimulant because his words turn up your pleasure even more. He must notice your reaction because he makes a noise of approval behind you. “Don’t you want to be good for us? You begged for this and you’re not going to repay us by showing us how good you feel,” you can hear the strain in his voice even as he clicks his tongue in disappointment, “be a good slut and cum for us.” He suddenly shoves forward into you and holds that speed and power as he thrusts like his life depends on it. “You can do it,” Spencer huffs, “show us how much you love being our little toy.” You don’t know if it’s the words, the feeling of being fucked, the lingering pain, or all of the above that finally sends you careening off the edge but your orgasm hits you like a truck. The pleasure finally overflows and floods your system. Your whole mind goes white, your eyes closing so hard you see spots. You become vaguely aware that you’re moaning loudly around Spencer as your legs shake. You start to come down as the men continue to fuck you through your orgasm. When you finally seem to be back to the land of the living, you hear a soft voice from above, “was that good angel?”

“Mhm,” you try to get out, not taking his cock from your mouth. He smiles, eyebrows pulling up into a look that tells you he’s close as you meet his eyes, “good girl.” His eyes leave you and go to Hotch, an almost evil grin creeping onto his face that you don’t understand. His hands suddenly leave your hair as he adjusts himself to grip the globes of your ass. “There we are,” you hear from behind you. Spencer pulls you open as Aaron leans back. The new position lets him push into you at an angle that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You can’t see him, but you can tell Hotch's eyes are glued to where you’re connected. “That’s just beautiful,” he nearly growls, "absolutely sinful view back here. If only you could see what you look like right now." Spencer whines, another sign he won’t last much longer. You swirl your tongue over the superheated flesh and draw a deep moan from him. You press your tongue against him at random intervals and revel in the little sounds that leave his lips. Aaron has started groaning deeply and you can’t help the way your heart flutters at the thought of all of you cumming together. You don’t know if you have another one in you, but you let the thought consume you. When Aaron reaches around you to press two fingers against your clit, it’s as if he read your mind. “Give us another one baby,” he pants.

You feel over sensitive, your whole body taken over by a pang of pain and pleasure, and you try to pull your hips away. Spencer tightens his grip and you’re stuck, helpless to their whims. Aaron and Spencer's hips both start to move faster, an unrelenting onslaught from both sides as your mind goes fuzzy. Your whole body starts to tighten as you try to keep your mouth relaxed for Spencer. Aaron is the first one to stutter his movements as his breath hitches. “F-fuck, I’m so close,” he moans. Spencer makes a noise that’s halfway between a moan and a sob, “right behind you.” You push yourself forward and backward between them, trying to help as they reach their peaks. Aaron suddenly pinches your clit between his fingertips and you’re a goner.

The three of you cum in unison. Spencer's grip becomes painful on your quickly bruising ass as Hotch slams forward and shoves you until your nose is pressed against your boyfriend's pelvis. You feel warmth exploding inside you as your mind goes blank. Your whole body tingles and near burns as you reach the best high you’ve had in a while. Spencer is the first to move. He slowly pulls from your mouth as pants shake his whole body. You swallow around him, taking what he’s given, and he winces at the beginnings of overstimulation. Hotch pulls out of you gently, rubbing gentle soothing circles into your hips as you clench around nothing.

Aaron pulls you back to rest against his chest and lifts your arm around his neck so he can get you off the chaise. Spencer takes clean up duty as you’re carted off to the side room you noticed earlier. You suddenly remember that you’re in a room full of people as you get turned to face them. They must have enjoyed the performance as a good portion of the couples, and singles, are embroiled in their own activities. You smile happily, glad you could provide them with good material and satisfied with your partners.

Aaron opens the door and lowers you onto a very large floor cushion. You wince slightly, a quiet squeak leaving your lips as your very angry skin makes contact with the material below you. “I know sweetheart,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You drift in and out of presentness as Spencer enters the room and the men help clean you up. When you feel their warm bodies pressed against either of your sides you finally let yourself drift off, ready for a power nap before returning to the party outside. You take comfort in knowing that you’re here with your favorite people and they’ll take care of you.

⃣ Follow up to I've Got a Taste For You

⃣ A.H. + S.R. ghostface au

It was a beautiful sunny day when he showed up. A beautiful sunny day that was ruined for Spencer by this random appearance. Your team had been told that you would have a new agent joining you on Monday. He was supposed to just be working with you for a few weeks before being sent across the country to work for another team. Monday morning was warm and brilliant. Spencer walked into the bullpen and smiled brightly at you. He set down a cup of coffee on your desk and let his hand lag over your arm. Your relationship hadn’t been announced at work yet, neither of you wanted to deal with the paperwork, so you subsided on stolen glances and lingering touches. “How was your night? Didn’t you go see a movie,” he asks casually. You nod, holding your coffee up to cool it off with your breath, “mhm. It was pretty good.” “I still can’t believe you went to see a movie without your favorite movie buddy,” he lets the end of his sentence curl into a playful whine. You snort a laugh, “you’ll live. Am I still your favorite girl to see movies with even though I betrayed you or-” Your question is interrupted by Derek Morgan interjecting, “hey! Am I not your favorite anymore?” Spence rolls his eyes before looking to Morgan’s desk, “you’re not a girl!” “Not the point,” he teases, turning back to his computer with a wide grin. As you go to lob your own joke into the mix, Garcia makes her presence known on the catwalk. She waves her hand, heralding your team into a meeting you could practically sense was coming. You made your way upstairs as the rest of the team wandered over. You take a seat at the table and watch the others filter in, noticing that Hotch isn’t in the room yet.

Spencer takes a seat across the table from you and shoots you a quick smile when you meet his eyes. When you first began dating you had mentioned that you liked sitting next to him, but because he always sat across from you it felt like he didn’t like sitting next to you. He then revealed that he sat across from you so he could look at you more covertly than if you were directly next to each other.

Hotch turns into the room, crossing the threshold with his back partially turned to the rest of the room as he guides a man in. Hotch patiently waits as the team finishes their conversations and turns their attention to him and the stranger he’s brought. You study the man's face, something familiar etched into the creases across his forehead and the shine of his hair. He turns to look at you and recognition lights up his expression. Hotch opens his mouth to introduce him and is interrupted when you exclaim, "Andy?!" He replies with your name, his voice joyful and surprised, "I thought that was you! I haven't seen you in forever!" Hotch does something that's as close to a grin as he can, "that makes the introduction easier I suppose. This is Agent Andrew Joyce, he'll be joining us for the time being." Andrew offers a polite wave at the group, "it's a pleasure to be here, thank you for welcoming me." JJ gives him a warm welcome and he moves around the table to the open chair on your left. He slides into the chair and shoots you a smile as your mind buzzes with things to ask him. Andrew has been your friend since you were 12, you'd lost contact after graduating high school and going to different colleges, but you occasionally came across something about him through his moms Facebook page. Garcia and Hotch fill the team in on the case you're signing onto. What originally appeared to be a strange string of family annihilators now seems to be connected and they need you all to fly to Iowa to help out. You glance at Spencer, expecting to see him already itching to get started like he often is, but you find that he's staring at Andrew. You assume he's just trying to get used to having a new face at the table and don't give it much more thought than that.

On the flight to Iowa you're sat across from Spencer with Prentiss on your right. Andrew was originally sat next to Spencer, but moved to talk to JJ and get more background on the case. Spencer is eyeing you in a way that makes you shift in your seat. You press your thighs together and twist slightly in your chair, hoping no one notices. The look he gives you isn't intimidating, but it is heavy, like there's something bubbling just below the surface.

Once landed, the team checks into a hotel and is assigned room partners. You end up getting placed with Emily, the two of you sharing a mischievous grin when handed your room key. Spencer ends up being placed with Derek, Rossi with JJ, and Andrew with Hotch. You and Emily drop off your suitcases in your room and quickly freshen up before going downstairs to meet the others. When you get downstairs Reid and Morgan are waiting on you. Derek leans against the back of a lounge chair in the lobby while Spencer stands in front of him, arms crossed and mouth moving a mile a minute as he speaks to him. You sidle up to Spencer's side and he stops mid sentence to look at you. "Are you guys ready to go," his eyes roam your face as he awaits an answer. You nod, "sure are! I just wanted to change my clothes real quick and Prentiss needed to put on a different shirt." "It's too humid for a sweater, what can I say," she shrugs. Spencer nods at her, a crinkle of a smile on his lips, "it is pretty humid. Is everyone else still upstairs? We haven't seen them yet." "We didn't see them in the hallway, so I'd assume so," you reply, letting your arm brush against Reid's. He drops his hand to lace his fingers with yours, moving to hide your hands behind the open quarters of his suit jacket. You glance up at him to find his eyes already on you, a small smirk exchanged between you. The smile is pulled from Spencer's face when the elevator dings behind you. You turn to find the rest of your group exiting the elevator, Andrew leading the way. He beams at you, the smile so wide it creases his eyes and nose slightly. He jogs up to you, "how does your squad feel about hugs between colleagues?" You giggle, "are you asking for a hug? We do hugs sometimes so no one will judge you if that's the concern." He laughs, a bellowing sound that you haven't heard in years, "yeah! I haven't seen you since we were little kids, of course I want a hug." “18 and off to college is not ‘little kids,’” you laugh. You glance at Reid before dropping his hand and spreading your arms to hug Andy. He lets out a sound close to a giggle and wraps you in his hold, almost immediately lifting you and twirling you around. The surprised yelp you loose from your lips almost covers his words, "I've missed you so much!" He sets you back down with a chuckle and you back away, nearly losing your balance and bumping into Spencer. "I think you surprised her," Emily laughs. Spencer cocks an eyebrow in a way that conveys exasperation, "I think he surprised everybody." Andrew's face flashes with a brief wave of annoyance or maybe defensiveness before looking back to you, "well maybe when we're done for the night we can get drinks and catch up." "I'd like that," you smile at him, discreetly running a hand down Spencer's arm to console him.

Spencer didn't often get jealous. It had happened a few times, mostly before you were even dating if you were honest. Once when you went undercover for a night to lure out an unsub at a couples club, he got so jealous that you worried he'd rip the man's throat out with his teeth. It didn't bother you when he did get jealous, you knew he'd lived a life of loss and stability was not a common state for him so when he perceived a threat to your steadiness it made sense that he would get a little possessive. If you were truly honest with yourself you also had to admit that it was a little hot when he got possessive. One time he'd gotten a little uppity about a man at a bar who'd tried to dance on you. He took you outside and pressed you against a wall, making an absolute mess of your neck before taking you home and making a mess of the rest of you. He'd growled in your ear about how you were his and it echoed in your most private moments for months after.

You arrived at the precinct, were briefed on what was going on, and split into teams to check out different crime scenes. You were placed with Spencer and Andrew, part of you smiled at how lucky that was, the other part of you cringed at how awkward this could get. The car ride over was largely silent. Andrew tried to start a conversation a few times, but Spencer's lack of enthusiasm quickly shut that down.

At the scene you all wandered around, sharing observations and discussing the case. You noticed that Andy and Spencer were both stood strangely close to you. You covertly take a step away to see what they do. Andrew follows, glued to your side, and you're slightly floored when Reid quickly appears on your other side. You try not to laugh at how juvenile this is. Andrew is talking about something he noticed, leaning over to point at one of the photos you've gathered of the scene, and Reid is staring daggers at him as he leans in a way that is similar to Andy. You figure you'll have to talk to Spencer about his behavior later, but now is not the time.

Back at the precinct you discuss findings with your team. As you approach the table that JJ, Rossi, and Derek are seated at, Andrew quickly snatches the chair directly next to you. Spencer is already on the other side of the table, but he shoots Andrew a look anyway. You assume it's about the principle. A map is brought out to highlight the sectors of town that the unsub is most likely to strike next. Andrew leans over the table past you and drapes his arm over the back of the chair as he does so. His thumb brushes the back of your arm and you jump slightly, not expecting the contact. "Do you want to move seats so you can see better," Spencer pipes up from across of you. Andrew tilts his head up to look at Spencer, he's so close to you now that the movement causes his tie to brush over the papers in front of you, "oh, I'm alright." His eyes find yours as he turns to look down on you, "are you alright?" "Uh, I can move so you can see better. Do you want to swap seats," you smile and try to hide the awkwardness you're feeling. Andrew's face tightens slightly, like he didn't expect you to agree with Spencer, "alright then." He stands back up and you stiffly swap over to what was his chair. You look at the other end of the table to find the other three staring at Spencer. JJ passes you a look that reads as, 'tell me what that was about later,' you simply nod and give her a tight smile. "So," you say, a little too loud, "what is everyone thinking for motive?"

Hotch enters the room and juts his thumb over his shoulder, calling your last name and causing you to tense, "Joyce, Morgan come with me." "We're in trouble now," Derek chuckles under his breath. You rise and step quickly to follow Aaron, Derek and Andrew close behind you. Hotch waits out in the hall talking to a local officer. He turns to include you all in the conversation, "this is officer Guerra, she wanted to bring some observations to our attention. She was one of the first on the scene for the last two attacks." Morgan nods next to you, looking a little perplexed, "does she want to present them to the whole team, or just to us? Why'd you call us out here?" “Well, I need you to follow me to talk to a witness and I thought this would be a good opportunity to get Andrew involved. Since you two know each other, I figured it would be easier to work together,” he gestures vaguely between you and Andy. You nod in agreement, “I’m good with showing him the ropes.” Hotch nods, gives you a quiet, ‘good,’ and wanders off with Derek. The three of you return to the room you’d been borrowed from and sit back at the table. Andrew pulls your chair out for you and you haltingly take a seat, your eyes flashing to Spencer and finding him caught up in a conversation with JJ.

The officer proceeds to fill you in on what she saw and you can’t help but bounce your gaze between the two men. Andrew occasionally returns your look, Spencer seemingly distracted by the officer's story. When she’s explained everything and shared her beliefs on the case you thank her and JJ escorts her out on her way to find Hotch. Reid immediately throws his energy into working on the profile, blocking out any comments from Andrew and focusing. His sudden disregard of Andrew's presence only feels slightly pointed, Andrew occasionally shifts uncomfortably in his seat when Spencer doesn’t respond to his input. You try to balance it out by answering him quickly enough that it might come off as Reid not replying redundantly, but that’s a flimsy plan and you know it. When it hits early evening, you decide to grab some coffee and offer to grab some for the others. “I’ll come with you,” Spencer volunteers, rising from his seat, “help you carry things.”You nod and smirk at him. Since you’ve started dating he’s used any excuse he can to be one on one at work. It’s quite sweet and you always feel a little special when he makes up a reason to get you alone.

Hovering over the coffee station you turn to him, “so what’s up?” He jolts slightly before trying to regain his unbothered disguise, “what do you mean?” “You’ve been staring at Andrew like you’re trying to set him on fire, you’re unusually clingy, and you’re completely refusing to talk to him,” you shift to rest one hand on your hip, a grin teasing at the corners of your mouth as he fidgets at being caught. “I- um,” he fiddles with the hem of his suit jacket, “I just don’t like new people…er- I have to get used to him.” He’s avoiding eye contact and trying to hide the twitch between his brows and you know you’ve got him, “so you’re not jealous?” “N-no, absolutely not,” he jerks to look at you. You hum affirmatively and turn back to the coffee pot. “Just out of curiosity,” he almost sighs, “he seems very comfortable being physical with you. Were you two ever…” He lets the end of his sentence drift off into the void, clearly hoping you’ll stop him before he has to ask. You finish his thought, “together?” He nods bashfully, staring rigidly at the floor. “No,” you chuckle, “I’ve never even had feelings for him. I think we kissed once, but I honestly barely remember so I wouldn’t even count that as anything besides adolescent experimentation.” Spencer nods firmly like he’s decided something, “that’s understandable.” “Thank you for talking to me, baby,” you reassure him, knowing the pet name will distract him enough to mend any residual anxiety he feels. You can practically see the way his heart flutters when he looks at you with a quickly building flush, “o-of course.”

You load up the coffees and take them back to the group that now includes Prentiss. She brought snacks from the vending machine, correctly predicting that none of you had eaten since landing. You snatch a bag from the pile and tug it open, immediately placing one of the chips on your tongue and sighing as you chew. Andrew grins at you, amused by your expressiveness. You continue your dissection of the case, throwing around theories and filling in profile details. You look up to ask Reid something and Andrew interjects. “Oh, you’ve got something there,” he leans forward and extends a hand. Before you even have time to try and fix it yourself, his hand cups your jaw and he brushes a thumb across the corner of your mouth and cheek to clear the crumbs from your chips. You feel your face heat at the unexpected contact, “t-thank you.” “No problem,” he replies, breezy as ever. You dare a peek at Spencer and are met with a red faced picture of envy.

The clock hits 10:17 and Derek loudly announces his defeat with a big stretch and an almost dad-esque overly exaggerated yawn. “Well, I think we’ve made good progress,” he sighs, “but it’s probably best if we all go rest up.” He looks at Hotch as if looking for permission. Hotch slides back from the table, “I agree. I think we’re approaching the point of diminishing returns on this for tonight.” With your unit chiefs approval you all start to gather your things and head for the door. You slowly walk out, trying to give enough time for Spencer to catch up without being suspicious, when an officer stops you. “You’ll want to go out that way,” he points at a hallway that runs perpendicular to the one you’re walking towards, “the only things down there are storage and empty janitor closets.” You nod and timidly thank him. Being stuck in the one room for so many hours must have gotten you turned around. Luckily, that provided a good excuse to hang back and let Reid meet you. He moves up to you, keeping a respectful distance by his standards, but still close enough that it feels intimate. You walk out the front door and load into a car together, watching as the others get into their own rentals and slowly pull out of the parking lot.

“So,” Spencer starts off, “how are you feeling?” You smile to yourself, “not super tired honestly. Mostly hungry right now.” “Do you want food,” he seems almost hopeful. You nod, your smile unable to be kept to yourself anymore, “doesn’t the hotel have a restaurant? How late are they open?” “All night as far as I know. I checked the sign while we were waiting earlier,” you can almost hear a chuckle of smugness in his voice. “Perfect,” you pat his thigh and grin.

The hotel restaurant is open to the lobby, a bar wrapping around one side to partially frame the separate area. You snag a booth towards the outer section, Spencer facing the front door to the hotel. You settle into the cozy atmosphere, dim lights and soft music filling your senses as drinks and appetizers are ordered. An impromptu date night is exactly what the two of you need after a long day of travel and working such a tough case. Spencer's eyes suddenly drift from your face, landing somewhere over your shoulder and suddenly lighting with annoyance. You start to turn, interrupted by someone calling your name and then Spencers. Andy pops into your eyeline around the end of the booth, “hey! I was just about to get food myself. Mind if I join you guys?” You open your mouth to tell him you’d like some alone time, but he cuts you off, “are you guys on a date?” He looks between the two of you, a small grin on his lips, “sorry that was a mean joke. Anyways,” he slides into the seat, his leg brushing yours, “how are you guys feeling about this case?” You glance at Spencer and see the bubbling anger beneath his eyes. Something waiting under the surface that frightens and excites you in equal measure. “Actually, we were discussing some personal matters,” you look at him, trying to use the silence and your expression to get across that he should leave, “so, if you don’t mind…” “Oh! My bad,” he glances between you two awkwardly, “can I just get a drink and then I’ll leave? I did really want to hear opinions on the case.” Spencer sighs, quiet enough that you only pick up on it because you’re used to how he breathes, and nods. Andrew discusses the case with you, his theories and the aspects that confuse him. It’s honestly a pleasant conversation between the three of you, until he accidentally ruins it.

“So I’m in a room with…David,” he says the name like a question and looks between you two for confirmation that comes in a synchronized nod, “and he’s not a bad roommate or anything, but I’d rather we were sharing a room.” You visibly see Spencer tense out of the corner of your eye. He had relaxed, possibly accepting that Andrew wasn’t a threat, but you guessed this would undo all of that. “Remember when we used to do sleep overs? Your house always had the best snacks,” he reminisces. You smile at the memories, “yeah, that was always such a blast. I remember when we broke the tv remote and had to find duct tape to hide it,” you giggle. Andrew's face creases in a laugh, “your dad was ready to kill us for that one.” You can sense Reid quietly fuming and suppress a giggle at how outrageous this is. Andy turns to Spencer, “did you have any sleepovers as a kid?” “No. I didn’t have many friends,” he deadpans, clearly struggling to hide the annoyance hiding behind his eyes. “Ah, okay,” Andrew adverts his gaze back to you awkwardly. You try to move on, changing the subject, “how did I not know you were working in the same field as me?” “I told my mom that it was top secret so she wouldn’t post every single detail of my career on Facebook,” he laughs, welcoming the shift in conversation.

You chuckle, “that’s smart, until she figures it out at least.” “Well how would she figure it out? She barely knows how to look something up and none of our other friends from back in the day work this job so she doesn’t know anyone else to prove me wrong.” You let an evil grin creep onto your face, “sure she does. She knows me.” What you’re implying clicks for him, “no. No you wouldn’t.” “Oh, I would,” you giggle maniacally. “Nonononono,” he fights the smile trying to break onto his face. You overexaggerate pulling your phone from your pocket and beginning to type, “in fact…let me text her right now, it’s been so long since we talked.” Andrew reaches over and snatches your phone from your hand. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger before quickly swinging it into his other hand and stuffing it behind his back. You extend an arm, trying to get between him and the back of his seat before he can fully relax against it again. He sees your plan and raises his arm above his head, dangling it over you. You try to grab it without physically hopping from the seat, to no avail. You tug on the sleeve of his shirt to try and pull his arm down, suppressing the childish urge to swat at his side. While you struggle, Andrew's laughs distract you from the quiet shuffle across from you, Spencer stands and reaches across the table. He yanks the phone from Andy's hand and flops back into his seat before your friend can try to grab it again. You turn just in time for Spencer to signal he’s going to toss the phone your direction. You catch it and shove it into your pocket as quickly as you can. Andrew sits, amused and stunned, in silence. You turn to him and stick your tongue out, Spencer does the same. When you look at Reid again there’s a small smile on his lips. He looks proud of himself.

“Wow, I didn’t expect interference from Dr. Reid over here,” Andrew chuckles and gestures loosely at Spencer. “I know how to have fun,” Spencer chuckles, “and there was no way she was going to be able to reach your hand without help.” Andrew laughs harder than expected, caught off guard by his words, “true!” “Well sorry I’m not freakishly lanky or whatever,” you mock pout, crossing your arms and turning away from them slightly.

Andrew opens his mouth to continue the joke but is interrupted when a waiter appears. He turns and orders his drink. You drop your act and glance at Spencer to find his eyes already on you. He’s making a face that makes your heart speed up. There’s a warning in his gaze. There’s a fire burning behind his pupils that warms your insides, that you know will catch you if you let it touch you. You want to seek out the flame, let it take you over and show you the feelings he’s been burying since the new agent showed up, but you know you don’t have the time or energy for it now. Spencer licks his lips absentmindedly, dragging the tip of his tongue across the plush surface before it disappears again. When you find his eyes again you’re met with a smirk, he was watching you. He watched as you watched his tongue, watched his lips, and let the thought of what else he could be doing with those things sneak into the forefront of your mind for a moment. You pull your eyebrows together in a silent shaming of his teasing. His reply is the quirk of an eyebrow that tells you this is no time for sass. You immediately school your expression and feel the fog of giving up control start to slip over you. Spencer notices and his expression eases, welcoming your compliance. Normalling you’d scold yourself for how easy it is for him to get you like this. Before the pressure can build even higher, Andrew turns back around. The tension between you and Spencer snaps and you let your facades click back into place as you both shift to face him. “So, about the case,” he swirls a finger over a whorl in the wood tabletop, “I’m a little stumped. What’s your theory?” You let the moment move on and focus on discussing the case with Andy, even when you can feel Spencer eyeing you in silence.

The next morning you wake too early for justification. You toss and turn as you try to go back to sleep, eventually giving up and throwing on a cardigan and sweat pants so you can trudge down to the lobby for coffee. You shoot a text to Reid to let him know where you’re going and pass on an invitation as you ride the elevator down. You take a seat in the lounge with your steaming cup of coffee, briefly letting your eyes close as you relax. “Hey,” you hear an overly chipper voice from your right and nearly jump out of your seat. Your eyes fly open to see Andrew taking the lounger on that side, “h-hey, what’s up?” “Did I startle you,” he giggles, “sorry, I just figured you could use some company.” You gesture at the seat he’s already in, “go right ahead, I don’t mind.” The two of you fall into easy conversation, time flying by before you can realize it. A shadow drifts over you for a moment and when you pause the conversation to see what’s blocked the light from the overhead lamps, you find a very clearly irritated Spencer. His arms are locked at his sides, eyes on Andrew, mouth in a thin line across his face. “Good morning Spence,” you beam up at him. He gives you a tight grin, “morning. You’re up early.” You think he must be disappointed he doesn’t get you to himself like he expected this morning. “Yeah, I guess my body decided it was time to get up,” you giggle. Andrew opens his mouth to say something when your phones all start buzzing with a message from Hotch. ‘We’ve got a lead to follow, get to the station as soon as you can.’ Andrew groans and you smile up at Spencer, “do you want me to grab you some coffee?” He nods briskly, “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

You gathered Spencer's coffee, all went your separate ways to get ready upstairs, and reconveined later at the station. You take a seat next to JJ, sliding into the leather chair and adjusting the hem of your skirt slightly. Andrew sits next to you, Spencer across from you, and you don’t miss how Reid's eyes drag across your exposed collar bone. The lead turns out to be nothing special, it gets you some new information but nothing that’ll make the case. Hotch wanders off with Derek and Emily to interview someone, leaving the four of you in a room with a few officers from the precinct. You all pour over details of the case, studying maps, lists of victims, databases of every person that bought specific items in a specific time window, until your eyes hurt. JJ makes the executive decision that you should take a break and eat something. Once food is delivered and handed out to the correct recipients the officers disappear to their own break room, your team staying in the conference room they’re in, and the room falls into silence of people enjoying their meals. You and a few others had ordered bottles of soda, the glass bottles clinking satisfyingly in the brown paper bag everything came in, you now absentmindedly ran one finger around the rim as you zoned out and thought of things from the case to what your friends back home might be up to.

Andrew nudges you with an elbow, “you know what this makes me think of?” You hum and raise your eyebrows in question, turning to see the wide grin on his face. “The last time we got these kinds of drinks together,” he makes a face that tells the others in the room this is some sort of inside joke. Your eyes roam around his face for a moment as you try to remember the last time you had these sodas together. Andy slowly raises his eyebrows and it clicks in your mind. You feel your eyes widen and your face heat the tiniest bit, “oh nooooo,” you start to laugh, from nerves and entertaining memories in equal measure. He nods, grin growing wider somehow, “Sophie’s house, right before college.” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between two fingers, “yeah, I forgot about that,” you laugh. “I didn’t,” Andrew chuckles, “I doubt Sophie’s forgotten about it either.” You bat at his shoulder and bury your face in your other hand, “oh my god, shut up.” You hear Andrews laugh from behind your hand. “Wait, I gotta know what this is about,” JJ chuckles, no doubt excited to have something to tell Prentiss later. “Noooo,” you groan, uncovering your face to try and reach a hand over Andrew's mouth before he can spill your secrets. He lifts from the chair slightly and bats your hand away with a raucous laugh, “oh, I’ll tell you.” You eventually give up and sink into your chair, pulling your knees up as high as you can to bury your face, covering your head with your arms. You can feel Spencer's eyes on you as he sits silently. You know this story won’t be his favorite and you’re trying to prepare for the effect it’ll have.

“You guys might not know this, but she used to be a party girl,” you can hear the smug smile through your arms. JJ gasps quietly, surely for effect as the team already knew you were a little wild as a teen, “really?” “Oh yeah,” Andy continues, “this one time, we went to our friend Sophie's house while her parents were out of town. It was the weekend before a bunch of us were leaving for college, so we wanted one more big party.” “As the party started winding down a bunch of us went downstairs to the den to play some games. When we got down there we couldn’t decide what to play. One of our friends took the soda bottles,” he gestures between you as you peek over the plane of your arm, “the two of us had and suggested we play spin the bottle.” You turn your head slightly to see Reid immediately tense. “This one over here,” Andrew juts a thumb in your direction, “was the star of the night. For whatever reason the bottle really favored her so she ended up-” You fling your hands out in a ‘halt’ motion, “okaaaaayyyyy, that’s enough of that story!” JJ chuckles, “wait no, I have questions.” “I will allow for three questions,” you sigh, dragging a hand down your face. JJ giggles quietly, “so how many people did you kiss?” You grimace and look at Andrew, “how many people were there?” “Six if we don’t count you or me,” he says, matter of fact. You cover the blush on your face with one hand, “so…seven…” JJ laughs in surprise, “wait, so you two have kissed,” she points between the two of you. “Yes, and I’m counting that as a question,” you almost shout trying to get the sentence out. She just grins, excited to have this new info. Andrew interjects, “I will say, so she doesn’t get too embarrassed, it was just kissing. There was no seven minutes in heaven shenanigans going on.”

“Oh wow, my hero, thank you so much,” you sneer at him, your words dripping with sarcasm. JJ waves a hand to stop the tangent, “so I’m sure I already know the answer, but were substances involved or were you just like that normally?” You can see a mischievous glint in her eye, this is more friendly teasing than a real question, “yes. I was not normally just kissing all my friends.” Andrew laughs, “only when we played certain games. Jeremy definitely thought you guys were going to end up together after that night though. I honestly thought we would end up a thing and-” Spencer stands from his chair, cellphone in hand, “hey, can I speak to you in the hall? Hotch just sent me something for the two of us.” You find his eyes and find yourself recoiling and wanting to reach for the darkness behind them. His speech is clipped and you can feel the irritation in his voice and see it in the tension of his shoulders. “Yeah, of course,” you rise to standing, “be right back guys," you smile at your team members. JJ gives you a smile, “let me know if you guys need anything!”

As soon as you’re through the door Spencer grabs your wrist and starts to lead you towards the storage hallway. “Spencer, wait, where are we going,” you whisper shout. He doesn’t respond, you can see the tick of his jaw over his shoulder. He’s pissed and you can’t tell if he’s about to lecture you, shout, or put you over his knee. He’s never shouted at you before, but you find yourself wondering how far this anger will go. You sharply turn a corner and are met with a few heavy old doors. He tries handles until one opens and you’re dragged into a dark file room. There’s shelves made into aisles, a few desks, chairs, and lamps spread all through the room. The air feels heavy with dust, the furniture looking to be at least twenty years old. He spins you and pins you by your shoulders to the door. “Spence, I’m so-” “Shut it,” he interrupts you, the flame behind his eyes back to heat you from the inside out.

His fingers twitch against your shoulders as his eyes rove over you. He eventually settles on staring at your mouth, “here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stay quiet, you’re going to behave, and you’re going to take whatever I give you until there is no question in your little head of who gets to have you like that. Okay?” You nod your head, already feeling the fog slipping over you. “I need words, gorgeous,” Spencer implores you, “I’m not angry, but I want you to remember what’s mine. if you aren’t comfortable with this we can go back and pretend nothing happened.” “Y-yes, I’m comfortable,” you nod your head again. “Good,” he smiles fondly, “now hush.”

He leans forward and captures your lips with his, the warmth searing into your skin and threatening to burn you alive. He deepens the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip almost immediately and you can feel the barely restrained lust behind his actions. You’ll never know this, but the thing that set him off this time wasn’t even entirely Andrews' fault. He’d started, very vaguely, describing the events of that night and Spencer's mind went wild. He pictured you, dressed down how you did when you weren’t working, maybe wearing a tank top and jeans that hugged you in all the right places. The way your hips and shoulders would roll as you crawled across the floor to the recipient of your kiss. Half hooded eyes and your hair falling effortlessly over one shoulder as you slunk over to them. Suddenly he was in your friend's place as you rose onto your knees, laying one against the outside of his hip as you moved to straddle him on some tacky 80’s carpet. The weight of you on him once you were fully seated, your legs bracketing his. Your gaze dropping to his lips as you leaned in and licked your lips. How you’d taste after a couple drinks. The whoops and chuckles from the other participants, some already having experienced this for themselves, but not the way he gets to. The way your hips always mindlessly grind against him when you’re in this position and how you probably wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from doing it again even with all these people watching. The out of breath sort of way you’d smile after you broke contact. Spencer just couldn’t keep to himself knowing that Andrew got to witness that side of you.

His tongue meets yours, a messy kiss that unfurls something inside you, he tastes like sweetness and coffee. Reid kisses the corner of your mouth and one of his hands leaves your shoulder, coming up to grip the underside of your chin and pushing your face up so he can kiss down your jawline to your neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks, but the contact drives you crazy no matter the briefness. His other hand trails down your body and only momentarily stops to grab at your right breast. His hand travels lower, meeting the hem of your skirt. He slips the tips of his fingers under, brushing against the warm skin of your thigh and causing you to jump slightly, not in shock, but from the build up of so much tension and anticipation. You feel Spencer smile against your collarbone and find yourself flushing, knowing that he must realize how much you need this too. Your skirt slides up your thigh as he hand shifts higher until the lace adorning your hips is under his fingertips. His teeth brush against the side of your neck where your blood is pumping a mile a minute. Spencer meets your lips again, kissing you hard and hot. He starts to unbutton your blouse with one hand, the other dragging your leg to curve around his hip.

This was one of the only times his height annoyed you. Normally you loved how he slightly towered over you, the way his body could cage you against walls or make you feel shielded with the way he hovered behind you during investigations, but it made these sorts of things hard. You knew that with your back against the door he’d have to stand at a strange angle if he wanted to be inside you, which is where you hoped this was headed. You press the heels of your palms to his chest and push. He looks at you, a little confused and wounded, until you point behind him. One of the desks in the room is already mostly cleared off, aside from an outdated bankers lamp and a few stray papers. Spencer turns back to face you with a wicked glint in his eye. Instead of dropping the leg he has wrapped around him, he pulls your other leg to rest on his hip. Before you can react he brings both hands up your legs to squeeze your ass and lift your hips to meet his. You squeak in surprise as he locks the door and walks you over to the desk. He practically throws you down, a quiet huff of exertion passing his lightly swollen lips. Reid tugs your skirt over your hips and scoots you so your hips meet his again.

He leans down to press his lips to the skin just above your breast, “I bet you don’t even know what you’ve been doing this whole time.” “W-what do you mean,” you stutter as he grinds his hips against you. He chuckles darkly, “acting like you’re not taken. Acting like he’s the greatest thing under the sun, right in my damn face.” You start to argue but a hand on your throat cuts you off, “walking around like I don’t own this beautiful body, like you wouldn’t sell your soul to me if you could.” His eyes land on yours and the pure possessiveness in them nearly takes you out. You let out a pathetic whine, letting your head fall back and praying it’s enough to keep you from unraveling. He ruts against you again and lets you feel the effect you’ve had on him pressed hard and scorching against your barely covered cunt. You press against him and draw matching whimpers out of both of you. He drags his hands up the outside of your thighs, fingers spread wide to touch as much of you as possible.

“I was willing to let so much slide,” Spencer puffs out as his fingers play with the border of your underwear, “but you guys just kept pushing my buttons.” You bite back the noise that almost slips from you when he slides his tongue parallel to the edge of the cup of your bra. He mouths at your nipple through the thin mesh cup and you try to press your hips against him again. One hand holds you in place with his thumb using near bruising force against your hip, the other migrates to hover over your weeping pussy. You start to protest, but he shifts your panties to the side and immediately glides a finger between your folds. He chuckles, “you’re soaked. If I didn’t know better I’d think you told him to say all those things so you could get this reaction from me.”

You whine and thrust your hips towards his hand without even meaning to. Reid tuts like he’s disappointed, “hush and be patient.” You open your mouth to say something, but it turns into a jumble of words as one finger enters you, “ohmygod.” “Hm,” he hums, tilting his head and raking his eyes over the parts of you that are exposed to him, “you’re lucky I’m prepping you. I wanted to just tear into you the second we got in here, but I’m more polite than that.” “T-thank you," you whimper, one hand jumping to hold onto his shoulder as he adds a second finger and pumps them in and out of you. “You’re very welcome, angel.” Spencer pulls down one cup of your bra after the other, gently lifting your tits from the comfortable mesh so he has access to them. He kisses you, burning and rough, his hand cupping your jaw. After a moment he hooks his fingers inside of you in tandem with a sudden breaking of the kiss so he can watch you react. You don’t disappoint as your eyebrows draw together and your mouth falls open on a strangled mewl.

“Look at that, I didn’t even have to ask you to open for me,” he smirks as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip then lets it glide into your mouth. Spencer presses on your tongue and jaw just enough to have you stuck in his hold, then dips his head. He swirls his tongue around one nipple before sucking it into his mouth. The need for his thumb in your mouth is made obvious when you have to fight to stay quiet immediately upon contact. He laves his tongue over your warm flesh while his fingers pick up speed. The hand on his shoulder travels up to the nape of his neck, finding its home in his hair. He groans against you, the sound muffled by your flushed peak in his mouth. You tug on his hair and rip a whine from his lips. He freezes for a moment. You look down and find his deep eyes watching you. He removes his thumb from your mouth, squeezing your jaw like a warning before removing it from your body entirely. Reid goes back to what he was doing and you let your eyes roll back as you cover your mouth. You distantly pick up on the sound of clinking, but you know the doors locked so you don’t focus on it.

You can feel your orgasm approaching. Warmth pools in your core, your legs start to feel fuzzy, and you can feel yourself losing strength in the hand that covers your mouth. You unintentionally tug on his hair again and this time he groans deeply. “Knock it off,” his voice is so muffled that you almost ignore it entirely, but the huskiness excites you too much to properly write off as background noise. Your body starts to tense as you tumble towards your end. Your toes curl, your grip on his hair and your face tighten, and you arch towards Spencer. He suddenly pulls his fingers from you, ripping away your orgasm with them. He stands up to his full height again, eyes ever watching your face.

“Nonononono-,” you whine despite the disapproving look he gives you. Your complaints are cut off when the blunt head of his cock suddenly rams into you. The hand that isn’t holding himself comes up to press against your lips, silencing the noise that tears from your throat. He lets out a deep groan that’s more like a growl as he sinks into you, the sound rumbles through his chest and you swear it knocks your brain loose because all thoughts and rationality slip away as he fills you. The orgasm you lost comes exploding back into your body as you clamp down on the sudden intrusion and arch into him. Your arm instinctively wraps around his shoulders and pull him towards you for support as your whole body is taken over with fireworks and warmth. “Oh fuck,” he moans quietly.

You come back into your body, regaining control and a hint of sanity as you focus back on what Spencer's doing. He sits with his hips pressed to yours and breathes deeply, closing his eyes momentarily. Spencer opens them again, “do you remember what I said,” he asks you, “about taking whatever I give you?” You nod your head. “Good. You’re doing so good, angel.” He draws his hips back and only gives you a moment to prepare before he’s punching into you. You shriek behind his hand, luckily it muffles it enough that you aren’t worried. Normally Spencer would start gently, letting you get used to him, but you don’t have time today. You groan at the harsh pressure in your core. It hurts, but just enough to make you want more.

‘Of course you had to pick the hung nerd that’s perfectly fine with fucking you in a storage closet at work,’ you curse yourself. Spencer grabs your arms and moves your hands to rest against his chest, not stopping the movement of his hips. He then grabs both your wrists and pushes them against your chest, “lay down darling, it’ll be easier that way.” You listen, not even thinking of how dusty the desk could be, and lower yourself until your back hits the desk. He keeps hold of your wrists and face as he finds a punishing pace to thrust into you.

“You know,” he pants, “we could’ve been doing this in the hotel, but you just had to push it, huh?” You shake your head at him. “Don’t lie. First it was about Andrew, then today you come in wearing this little skirt to top it off? And then I have to hear about you getting passed around a party,” he smirks, “the only time I want you at that kind of party is if I bring you there and get to take you home.” Your eyes roll back as his grip on your wrists becomes almost too much. He’s panting and grunting above you, hair mussed and collar crooked and it’s going to do you in too fast if you don’t avert your eyes. Spencer slams into you, “I bet he’s never gotten to see you like this, right beautiful? Only I get to see you all fucked out and begging for more. He’s never had you chained to the bed and coming undone over and over, has he? He probably doesn’t even know how rough you like it or that you want someone to tell you what to do. He’s never seen you crawl across a room to suck his cock just because he asked you to.” You moan wildly under his hand, your body going limp as he drives you crazy. He lets you go to press his thumb against your throbbing clit and you feel yourself wail before you even hear the muffled sound that makes it through his other hand. He makes dizzying circles over the bud, pleasure ripping through you as you approach another orgasm.

“I-if- fuck- if I let you talk will you be good? No one can hear us or I-I’ll have to stop,” he asks, struggling through his words. You nod your head frantically, wanting to do whatever he wants of you. “Good girl,” he growls, letting you get out one last whine at his praise before uncovering your face. “Thank you,” you near whisper. He smiles, “who do you belong to?” “Y-you,” you bite back a moan. He groans, fucking into you deeper, “who does this pretty cunt belong to?” Your body strains and you see him fight to not react as you clamp down on him, “you, y-you.” “Such a good girl for me,” he drops his head briefly, fighting back sounds, “not for anybody else.” “Just for you, Spence.” “Fuck,” he throws his head back before looking at you with so much hunger it might scare you if you weren’t so insanely into this side of him, “just for me. No one else makes you feel like this, right baby?” You nod your head, the fire in you starting to swallow all your senses as it creeps higher, “just you. No one else has ever made me feel like this.” “You’re so perfect,” his hips start to falter, his thumb pressing against you harder. Your eyes struggle to stay focused the closer you get to cumming. “You own me, baby. All of me,” you manage to get out as you slip off the edge.

Spencer’s hips slam into you roughly as his head falls to your chest. He’s curled over you as his hand flies back to cover your mouth and stop the noise that starts to climb your throat. He bites into your flesh just above your left nipple as his orgasm washing over him in tandem with yours. You cum together, your whole body tightening and spasming as the ecstasy washes over your body like a crushing wave. You feel the warmth explode inside of you as he loses his composure and lets your skin muffle the deep growling moan he unleashes as he fills you.

Masterlist Previous Chapter Chapter 1

It’d been two weeks since Spencer Reid had gone home. You were sprawled on your couch in the afternoon sunlight reading a report with your arms stretched above you, when your phone dinged to life. You reach over, grabbing your phone off the table and perusing your notifications. Your eyes light up when you see Spencer's name on your screen. He had been away on a case since about four days after he got home, so you’d only been hearing from him sporadically. ‘I’m finally free, arriving home in approximately 10 minutes. I hope life has been treating you well. - your exhausted friend, S.R.’ You can’t help the smile that breaks out across your face as you read his message, quickly typing out your response. ‘Good to hear! I’ve been bored out of my mind. I’m reading a report on a specimen we just got in at work. - your very weary friend’ ‘Wow, I wasn’t expecting such a fast response. Miss me or something? What’s the specimen?’ ‘Oh yeah, you know I just can’t live without hearing from you. It’s some false teeth from the 1600s, they’re just on loan from someone in Germany.’ ‘Yeah? If you miss me that bad then maybe you’d be up for a phone call tonight? I’d love to hear about the teeth.’ ‘Absolutely, just let me know what time and I’ll be awaiting your call, you can hear all about the teeth.’ ‘How’s 6 pm sound?’ ‘Perfect, can’t wait!’

Spencer smiles, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he waits to depart the plane. Across the aisle from him Emily Prentiss impatiently waits to depart as well. She glances at Spencer, puffing a breath as she says, “that was a hell of a time, what do you guys say to drinks?” There are various responses in confirmation from around the plane. Spencer tries to hide his grin from her, “sorry, I have plans.” Emily glances at Derek, exchanging a look that says they want to be nosey about his plans, but neither of them asks. Hotch is seated further up towards the cockpit. He recognizes something in Spencer's tone, but he keeps it to himself.

Spencer pushes the door to his apartment open with his shoulder, immediately dropping his bag just inside his door and kicking off his shoes. He rushes to his room to change into something more comfortable before calling you. His team's goodbyes took longer than expected and it was already fast approaching 6 o'clock. He throws on some soft pants and a plain white tee, hoping to appear nonchalant, despite knowing you can’t see him through a phone call. He realizes he has a few minutes, sighing and finally calming his dash to get ready, and puts his bag and shoes away properly. By the time he’s done it’s about 5:58 so he decides to text you. ‘Are you ready? If not I can wait, I’m just at home.’ As he stares at his screen waiting for a reply, it begins to ring as your contact photo fills his screen. He lets out a surprised squeak as your laughing face appears, unexpected, but he pushes the answer button anyways. “Hello,” his voice comes out more unsure than he’d like as he holds the phone to his ear. Your sweet laughter rings from the other side of the phone, “hey, how’s my favorite nerd?” He smiles at that, “I’m doing alright, just got home a little bit ago. How are you?” He can practically hear the smirk through the phone, “so you didn’t just rush into your house with barely enough time to call me?”

Shit. Busted…somehow. “I’m doing good,” you continue, “work kind of took it out of me today, but I’m good.” “How did you know about me just getting home?” You laugh, “you sounded nervous when you answered and with the past couple phone calls we’ve had, you tend to ask to call me as soon as you’re available. It’d be weird for you to get home, with plans to call me, and still wait without asking to talk earlier than we scheduled.” Spencer blinks in surprise and you answer his silence with a quip, “who’s the master profiler now?” He snorts a laugh, “still me, but nice try.” You return the laugh, a soft giggle filtering through his phone speaker to fill his ears and alight his face with a smile. “So what are you up to,” he asks, stopping himself from getting distracted by your breath echoing in his ears. “Not a whole lot, finished that report I was reading earlier, made myself some dinner, and read a couple chapters while I waited for your call.” Spencer tries to make a joke, falling flat when he says, “and what would you be doing if I was there?” A laugh erupts from your side of the phone, “woah Spence, what kinda question is that? Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?” Spencer blushes to himself, “no- I meant like- uh I-” You cut him off before he can explain what he was trying to say, putting on a dramatically sensual voice you continue, “oohh Spence, what I wouldn’t do if you were here. I’d kiss your pretty little genius face and let you watch my silk robe fall to the floor, revealing that I’m wearing nothing under it, and…I dunno, light some candles or something else romantic.”

You devolve into a fit of laughter, not able to see how completely scarlet he is at the thought of what you’ve just described. His mind wandering to things he’d rather it stay away from for his own sanity. When he speaks again his voice comes out quieter than he means it to, “I swear I was trying to make a joke of some kind. Not that kind,” he laughs nervously. “I know, don’t worry, it was just funny phrasing,” you giggle. He laughs, “do you really own a silk robe? That was a pretty specific detail.” “Well I was trying to come up with something that someone in a cheesy romance might do, but yeah. Or at least I used to. I got one as part of a lingerie set, but I didn’t keep it long since it was in a color my ex hated,” you ramble. Spencer's heart stops for a second, he swears. He imagines you, remembering those pictures he found, adding a soft robe to the memory. “-I’d probably get one again in the future, now that I care less about people pleasing,” you laugh, reminiscing on how different you are now. When Spencer doesn’t respond after a moment you clear your throat dramatically. He shakes his head, ending the spell he’s under and returning to earth. “You good over there,” you chuckle. He nods, as if you can see him, “yep! Just thinking of something.” You pause and he itches, worried you’ll ask follow up questions.

“Do you want to video chat?” He breathes a sigh of relief before panicking again to find a good backdrop and hope he doesn’t look too disheveled after his flight and rush to get ready to call you. “Yeah, sure,” he finally replies. Your face appears once again on his screen, this time with a video chat invitation that he promptly answers. “Hey,” he smiles, happy to see your face again. “Hey! Funny to see you here,” you chirp back. He muffles a laugh, trying to not reveal how cute he thinks you are. “Alright,” you sigh, settling into your seat at your desk, “give me the grand tour!” He blinks, realizing this is your first time seeing any of his home. He hadn’t tidied up since getting back, not that it was a mess, but he’d want things to be perfect the first time you saw it. “Uh, no. You’ll have to wait until you see it in person,” he tries to say smoothly. You gasp, “what? That’s so unfair.” “Hey, I only got to see your place in person,” he puts one hand up defensively. “Yeah, because we just got reintroduced,” you squeak in mock outrage, “whatever, I can wait.” He smirks, “it’s just incentive for you to come visit me.” “Whatever,” you grumble through a grin. “Tell me about your day,” he smiles back at you, getting you both on track again.

Spencer can’t help but stare at you. Your face is flushed from the warmth in your apartment, your hair falling loosely, cascading over your skin, your eyes dewy in the low light from your desk lamp. You’re wearing a lace lined camisole top, he thinks it must be pajamas. As you talk with one hand flitting all around to emphasize your feelings, he can’t stop himself from staring as one strap slips down your shoulder. The shift in fabric drags the neckline down a bit, exposing more cleavage than he’s prepared for. He stares unabashedly, something he’d be too nervous to do in person, but with the digital barrier, and his sleep deprivation from travel, he lets his animalistic urges win a little. His thoughts drift. He imagines kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder, moving across your collar bone, sliding the other strap down until he can slip the whole top down your body and feel how soft you are in his hands. He imagines his hands skimming down your body, feeling every curve of your body until- “-so then he asked me out, but I-” Spencer's heart drops to his feet. He had been so caught up in his fantasies that he was barely listening. Okay, he wasn’t listening at all. “What,” he interrupts, stopping your roll momentarily. Your eyes flick to his face on your screen again, “I know right? Who asks out their coworker, while they’re working, in the middle of the day? It was so unprofessional.” He watches your face, telling himself to pay attention to more than your body and what he could only dream of doing. “-but I told him no. Well, actually I told him I’d think about it, but once I have the courage it’ll be a no. I don’t think we’d line up at all and I have a thing against dating a coworker,” you continue on. “Why wouldn’t you line up,” he asks.

He’s told himself you’re off limits, so he also tells himself that he isn’t gathering intel to figure out what you like and need from a partner. “Okay, this is insider museum employee knowledge,” you say dramatically, “no matter what, you can never reveal this to another museum worker.” Spencer makes a motion like he’s zipping his lips shut, finishing it with a nod to signify you can go on. “So one of the girls in the documents department dated him for about three months. When they broke up we all got the tea on their relationship and, apparently, he has an issue with…going down,” you whisper the last part. Spencer cocks his head, throwing on a confused face and hoping you’ll clarify. “He, um, he doesn’t eat out, if you get what I’m saying,” you circle your hands, trying to lead him to what you mean. “Oh. OH,” Spencer finally utters. “Yeaaahh,” you confirm, “and while that might not be an issue for some people, it is for me.” Part of Spencer's brain lights up like a christmas tree, he chooses to ignore the part of his brain that’s reacting, to save himself the embarrassment. “I just can’t give up that kind of pleasure for a man, I guess,” you laugh, “been there, done that, it’s not worth it.” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “let me guess, your ex?” “Oh who else,” you laugh, “he did it once, ya know? It was fantastic, actually. The weight of his tongue, the way his breath felt against me, the way he somehow knew how to hit every spot I needed…” Spencer fades away again, imagining him in your ex’s place. His head between your thighs, you moaning his name, the way you’d taste and feel against his tongue. He registers that he’s near panting now, his pants suddenly feeling tighter as you continue discussing the delights of receiving what you need. “…but there’s other things too, like he tried to introduce my coworker to his mom on the third date.”

Spencer resurfaces from the depths of his mind, blinking hard to wipe his thoughts. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he tries to sound like he’s been listening. You nod and fill him in on a few more details of why you don’t want to date this coworker. He continues to drift in and out of the conversation, hopelessly distracted by the conversation topic and your, still descending, shirt strap. Finally deciding he needs to put an end to his daydreaming, he pipes up, “your tank top strap is falling.” You glance down, flushing at how much it’s moved and pulling it back into place. Hoping to distract from how flustered you are, you smile, “actually it’s a nightgown!” Before Spencer really has time to react you prop your phone against your lamp and stand up. You reveal the, rather short, nightgown, twirling in a few small circles to show it off. Spencer's heart thuds in his chest, part from the love sick puppy side that can't stand how cute you are, and part from the overly excited part of his brain that notices how easy it would be to take that piece of clothing off. ‘Jesus christ,’ he thinks to himself, ‘what is wrong with me?’ You sit back down, “anyways, I’ve been rambling. How was your day?” He welcomes the distraction, “the flight was alright, the case wrapped up nicely, and I finished one of the books you recommended to me!” “Awesome! What’d you think,” your eyebrows shoot up as you await an answer. He beams at you, “I loved it! The color symbolism and use of flowers was incredibly interesting!” You clap your hands together, “I knew you’d like it!” Spencer smiles, suddenly feeling very tired from his day of travel. As if you can read his mind you suddenly give him a soft smile. “Are you feeling tired?” He frowns slightly, “yeah, but I don’t want to stop talking.” “We can talk tomorrow, don’t make yourself stay up for me,” you give him a smile that would almost read as pitying if he didn’t know better. He doesn’t catch himself before thinking ‘I’d do anything for you.’ “I guess that’s fair,” he chuckles.

You reluctantly exchange your goodbyes and end the call, suddenly he’s alone in his apartment again. Scrubbing his hand down his face he sighs, wondering how to get his interest in you out of his system so it doesn’t make your friendship harder. He thinks on it, willing his lower half to calm down after that conversation, as he gets up to throw some laundry in the machine. As he tosses his clothes in, something falls onto the floor. He glances down to see a small crumpled bit of something red that he doesn’t recognize. He leans down, picking up the soft material with two fingers, uncrumpling it as he stands upright again.

Unfolded in his hands is a lacy red thong. He buffers for a moment, not recognizing it for longer than he’d like to admit. When it finally clicks for him he gasps, practically throwing the piece of material to the floor as he jumps back. He stands there frozen, staring at the beckoning fabric. After a moment of pause, he picks it up again. He holds it in his hands, just breathing as he stares at it. He realizes it must have been wrapped up in his clothes when you’d done his laundry. He’s engulfed in thoughts of you wearing the item, dancing around in your room, slipping it off at the end of a long night, or discarded on the floor as you rush to get into bed. Something finally snaps in his brain. He marches back to his room, shutting the door behind him. He lays down in his bed, already disappointed in himself, but unable to stop. He slides his hand down his body, catching on the hem of his pants before gliding under it. His fingers brush his length and he immediately sighs at the contact. ‘It’s just been a while,’ he tells himself, ‘it’s been almost three weeks so I’m just pent up.’ His brain flashed back to the last time he’d touched himself, trying to be silent in your bathroom as you slept in the other room. He had waited, but his issue wasn’t going away and he finally gave in. He let his fingers wrap around his length, gingerly removing himself from his pants. He grips the base of his cock, sighing as he accepts his decisions. He pumps his hand up his length slowly, sighing at the feeling as tension starts to leave his body. He moves his hand up and down, throwing his other forearm over his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” he groans, dragging his hand over himself.

This was, admittedly, the second time this had happened. The last time had also been the last time he’d touched himself in general. He woke up next to you, hard enough that it hurt, from a dream he had. The dream involved you, dressed in a flowing see through dress. You climbed onto his lap and guided his hands over you, eventually slipping the dress off and letting him explore you on his own. Upon waking up he practically ran to the bathroom. He waited around for a while, hoping his erection would go down, but it wouldn’t. So he took care of it, with one hand over his mouth and a chest full of shame. The difference was that before he had tried to keep himself from thinking of you, failing spectacularly, but he tried. This time he let himself think of you. He pictures those photos he found of you, your cute little nightgown, that robe you’d mentioned, the underwear he’d accidentally brought home with him, and he lets the shame swallow him. His overwhelmingly horny brain masking the shame and cloaking it with something bigger. He pictures his lips kissing their way down your body. Your neck, chest, stomach, hips, until he finally found you sweet center. He thinks of how you’d taste, how you’d wrap your legs around his head and scream his name. His hand tightens on himself, working faster as he throws his head back and groans. A deep sound rumbling through his chest as he pictured you on top of him, being the thing gripping him so tight. He moans your name, over and over, as he delves into his fantasies. Pinning you to your bed and learning every centimeter of your skin. Filling his senses with you until he could think of nothing else. Making you scream his name until your neighbors know who he is. He moans loudly, biting down on his forearm as he spills all over himself, hoping to muffle some of his sounds. He strokes himself one, two, three more times as he comes down from his high with your name on his lips. He quickly wipes himself off with the tissues he keeps near his bed, immediately flopping back down and burying his head in his hands. As good as it felt to imagine you, the immediate sobering shame afterwards is hard to cope with. He feels like a horrible friend as he realizes that this wasn’t a passing crush or simply a way to cope with him losing you for so long. He wanted you. He needed you.

You hit the ‘end call’ button and immediately flop back in your chair, letting out a heavy sigh. You run your hands through your hair, wondering about why you said half the things you said. You knew discussing those topics with him would have an unwanted effect on you, but he was listening so intently that you just kept going, craving his attention. As you talked your hands jumped around and you eventually became aware of your rogue strap, but figured it was fine. You wondered if he was bothered by your exposed skin, or if maybe he wasn’t bothered, but feeling something else. You quickly shake your head, hoping to remove that thought entirely from your head. While you were talking you were too busy to track where his eyes were looking at the little image of you on his phone, or you'd have noticed how much he devours you, the way his eyes dance across your skin. As you scold yourself you get up and stomp across your apartment, hoping a cool shower will snap you out of your haze.

You turn on the water and test it on the back of your hand before stepping back to get changed. You remove your straps, sliding the nightgown down your body until it pools on the floor. Your brain tortures you with images of Spencer letting it fall off you instead. You groan loudly, pressing your palms against your eyes in exasperation, “this is ridiculous. I’m acting like a teenage girl over someone that wants nothing to do with me.” You step into the water, not giving it time to get to a comfortable temperature in your haste, the cold shocking your body and making you tense. “Jesus christ,” you hiss, promptly turning the faucet to a warmer temperature. As the water warms the real reason you came in here slips from your thoughts. They instead travel to exactly where you were trying to avoid. Your body is warm and pliant under the water, your eyes shutting as if on their own as you let your mind wander.

Your hand travels down your body of its own volition as you picture Spencer. He runs his hands over your naked body, fingers dancing across you. He cups your cunt and presses a kiss to your shoulder before tilting his head up to look you in the eyes, “is this where you want me?” You unabashedly nod your head, pressing your sex against him. “Aw, of course you do, baby,” he coos. He moves his index and middle fingers to your clit, pressing, but not moving. You whine and he chuckles in response, immediately starting to rub dizzying circles against you. You press yourself against him, chasing his touch and trying to avoid begging for more. He reads your mind and lets his fingers travel further until they’re just barely teasing at your entrance. Before you have time to ask for more he’s plunging inside of you, ripping a gasp from your lungs. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, immediately curling his fingers to press against your G-spot. “Oh fuck,” you moan, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself. “Yeah? Is that what you wanted,” his voice is dangerously low, rumbling through your chest.

You let your other hand find your clit, immediately pressing down hard, but in your minds eye Spencer’s hands are big enough to comfortably use his thumb to press against you as his other hand roams your body.

He kisses down your neck and across your collar bone, eventually making his way back up the other side of your neck. His lips find yours and he engulfs you in a fiery kiss. Your tongues dance together as his hand picks up the pace. He presses into you relentlessly as you chase your orgasm. You throw your head back in a lewd moan, leaning yourself against the shower wall behind you as he moves to continue attacking your neck. With one final push of his fingers you’re careening into a thigh shaking orgasm.

You work yourself down from your high as the image of Spencer fades from your mind. Your chest heaves as you erupt in a bright blush over what you just did. “God, I’m screwed," you sigh, returning to your shower under the now cooling water.

In the morning you roll yourself from your bed, fighting the urge to climb back in and ignore the alarm ringing from your phone. You trudge to your bathroom, and then your kitchen, grouchiness practically radiating off you. You hadn’t slept well, weird dreams haunting you. Dreams of humiliation and awkward situations that made you want to hide from the world. Your day brightened slightly when you finally checked your phone and saw a notification from your favorite FBI profiler. ‘Thought you’d want to see this. Hope you slept well.’ Attached was a photo of a very old bottle of some kind of medication. Looking at the photo closer it appears he’s in someone's house so you shoot back, ‘Are you sending pictures of evidence to me now? I slept terribly, but I’ll live.’ You set your phone down, not expecting a response until much later when he has time, but your phone almost immediately dings again. ‘Ha, no, that’s something my friend got at a thrift store. I just thought you’d like it. She says it has a ghost trapped in it or something. I’m sorry you slept poorly. I didn’t sleep great either, I had a lot of weird dreams.’ You laugh to yourself, noting that you and your friend have similar sleep issues. ‘It probably does, old containers like that are a major ghost attractor. That’s why the museum's so haunted. Hopefully you sleep better tonight.’ ‘I’ll let her know about the ghost thing. I hope you do too.’

As you pull up to the museum you see the car of someone you were hoping to avoid today. You grab your things and speed to your office, hoping to go unnoticed. As you shut the door behind you, you hear someone call your name from down the hall. You sigh, deflating against the door as you wait for him to knock. As sure as death, moments later there’s a knock at your door. You’re still setting your bag down and moving to put your coat away, but you open the door anyway. Standing in your doorway is Thomas from archival. He props himself against your doorway, cocky as ever, as his name drips off his lips, “how’s it going?” “Good, just got in,” you give him a tight smile, moving to hang your coat up. He saunters in and leans against your desk, “soooo…” He starts, but doesn’t really finish, staring at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows at him, beckoning him to continue. He clears his throat and straightens up, slightly awkward, “have you given my proposal any thought? I think it’s a pretty good deal,” he gives you a smug grin. You internally roll your eyes at how cocksure he is, “I have, actually.” Before he has time to respond you continue, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to date coworkers, for me personally. I’m sure you’re a lovely date, but I don’t want the risk of anything interpersonal making work messy.” His smile drops, “so no? You’re turning me down?” You nod softly, hoping to not completely crush him, even if he is a little overzealous. “But if we didn’t work together then you’d say yes,” he crosses his arms. You look away, feeling awkward, “maybe, yeah.” He sighs, “alright, I guess that’s fair. Can’t blame a guy for trying though.” You nod, scooting behind your desk to hopefully signal you have to work. He turns, waving over his shoulder as he leaves, “have a good one.” You return the sentiment and pull out your files for the day.

As your day crawls on you find your mind drifting back to Spencer. As you stand in one of the exhibit halls discussing some work politics with one of the other curators, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You try to discreetly check the notification, but you're powerless to the big grin that breaks out across your face when you see his name on your screen. You tamp down your smile and turn your attention back to your colleague to find her smiling expectantly at you. “Who’s that,” she smirks. You laugh anxiously, “oh nothing important, just one of my friends checking on me.” “Uh huh,” she chuckles, “and you normally react like that when your friends text you?” You can feel yourself starting to blush, “like what? Smiling?” Your colleague barks a laugh, “Smiling? You just looked like a high schooler that got asked to homecoming.” You laugh louder than you mean to in your nervous state, “I just got excited. I haven’t seen them in a while.” “Sure, whatever you say,” she smiles at you smugly. You move the conversation forward, changing the subject and allowing yourself a break, focusing instead on placement of a display.

Returning back to your office briefly, you slide your phone from your pocket. You tap it to life, immediately finding Spencer's message in your notifications. ‘Are you bored to death yet? I sure am with all the paperwork I have to do today.’ ‘God, yes!! I have a meeting in 10 and I want to skip it and take a nap so bad.’ You grab the things you need for your meeting and start to head to the conference room hiding in the depths of the museum , your phone propped on top of your papers as you await a response. Entering the hall that leads to the behind the scenes areas of the museum, you’re met by Thomas sidling up to your side and matching your pace. “Hey,” he raises one hand in greeting. You wave your fingers at him as best you can without dropping your belongings. “So, I’ve thought about it, and you’re right. I think it’s best to wait,” he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. You try to not sound annoyed when you answer, “can we avoid talking about this at work for now, I’d rather talk about this when I’m not focusing on a million other things, ya know?” He nods, but starts to counter you when your phone dings. You see him follow your eyes to the screen, an immediate shift in him when he reads the screen. ‘Good luck with your meeting! I could also totally go for a nap now, maybe later we can…’ The end of the message is cut off, but he clearly reads something into it that isn’t there. “Oh. Yeah, I get it,” he mutters. You praise whatever sweet mercy there is when you reach the conference room and find it already filling up with others. You sit next to one of your closest friends and slump into your seat as Thomas seats himself elsewhere. You greet your friend and quickly check your messages while everyone waits for the meeting time to strike. ‘Good luck with your meeting! I could also totally go for a nap now, maybe later we can talk about our days at work and compare boredom.’ ‘I’m so down for that. You’ll probably win, my day involves a lot more talking than paperwork currently.’ You smile and put your phone back in your pocket, not missing the scowl from Thomas, as you join in the conversation. The meeting goes well, just a basic brainstorming and planning session for the upcoming holiday season, and before you know it you’re getting ready to head home.

As you lock up your office for the night, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. Tearing down the hall is Thomas. ‘Of course he’s ambushing me,’ you think to yourself, rolling your eyes slightly. “Hey! Are you off the clock,” he asks as he reaches you. ‘This is unavoidable, I might as well get it over with,’ you decide to not run from him, even though you probably could. “Yeah, what’s up?” “You could have just told me you had a boyfriend,” he tries, and fails, to hide the bitterness in his expression. You put on a sickly sweet disposition, “I don’t.” “Then who’s Spencer,” he crosses his arms, as if you owe him an explanation. You keep your overly nice act, hoping to avoid a real confrontation, “you met him at the gala. He’s a childhood friend of mine, he was with Hassan and his out of work friends.” Thomas suddenly looks embarrassed, but not any less suspicious, “ah, okay, I vaguely remember him.” You reach your arm up slightly above your head, “the tall guy, kinda gangly looking?” He seems to brighten at how you describe Spencer, as if he’s somehow pleased with your word choice, “oh yeah, I remember him now. Are you guys just friends?” You bristle at his words, once again like he’s entitled to know these things, “yeah, just friends. He’s known me longer than anyone else in my life, we’re just super close.” He nods in thought, seemingly satisfied, “alright, well let me know if things change. Between us I mean. I’d love a shot at getting to be the special guy in your life,” he ends with a wink, sauntering away before you have time to think of a response. You drag your hand down your face, sighing, ‘what is his deal? I told him no, I gave him a reason even when I didn’t have to, and I even answered his invasive questions.’

You walk to your car and check your phone, delighting when you see multiple messages from Spencer. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m back home, I have so much boredom to tell you about.’ ‘Just remembered, I was going to ask for updates on that guy you mentioned. Anything new?’ ‘Made it home! I’m free whenever you are.’ You quickly shoot back a text, noticing that he’s been waiting on a response for almost thirty minutes. ‘I’ll be home soon! Just now leaving work.’ You speed home, impatient to fill him in on Thomas, and quickly put away your belongings when you get there.

You flop down on the couch and fire off a text to let him know you’re ready, just in case he isn’t waiting on you like you wait on him. Your phone lights up with his face, that goofy picture you got of him sleeping, and you speedily hit the answer button. “Helloooooo Spencey boy,” you laugh at the vaguely disgusted noise from him. “Hello, don’t call me that,” the last bit is struggling through a laugh as if he can’t hold it in. You flip over onto your stomach, putting him on speaker, “how are you doing? Did you survive the paperwork?” He chuckles, “barely, I almost lost my hand from working so hard.” “I’m proud of you for making it then,” you smile. He sighs quietly, “how are you? Any updates you need to share?” There’s something in his voice you can’t place, but you don’t dwell on it, “I have so much in way of updates. I turned him down!” “How’d that go,” this time you can identify what’s in his voice. You don’t know why, but it’s very clearly relief.

“Well he seemed upset, honestly. I told him we shouldn’t date because we work together and he got all tense. He asked if I’d date him if we didn’t work together and then later he ambushed me on the way to our meeting. He said he ‘thinks it’s better to wait’ like he thinks it’s inevitable or something. Once I was off for the day he ambushed me again,” you groaned. Spencer sounded upset, not at you, but at the situation, “what did he want then?” You sigh, rolling your eyes, “well when we were on the way to the meeting you texted me and I think he misread it as something romantic. He basically told me that if I was going to turn him down then I should have just said I have a boyfriend, so I told him I don’t and he was like, ‘let me know if things between us change because I really want a chance.’ It was just kind of uncomfortable.” Spencer remains silent for a long while. Just when you start to think you’ve lost him, he pipes up again, “he sounds like he doesn’t respect your boundaries.” You nod, “he doesn’t. It’s never that much of an issue, but it is annoying.” Spencer sighs from the other line, “you’re too forgiving,” he says your name, not like he’s disappointed, but like he’s resigned himself to worrying about you. “If you ever need someone to intimidate him into leaving you alone, just let me know, I work with some pretty scary people,” he sounds deathly serious through the phone. You laugh, your mood lifting, “thanks Spence.”

You roll onto your back, holding the phone in the air above you, “what did you get up to today? Besides paperwork?” You hear him rustling around, probably settling more into whatever seat he’s in, “well I got coffee. I brought some to one of my friends before we came into work, hence why you got that photo, and then I worked until I decided I needed to eat.” “What’d you eat,” you chime. He snickers quietly, “just a sandwich and some fruit, nothing fancy.” “Sounds good though,” you giggle as you suddenly realize how hungry you are. “It was,” his voice is soft and comforting as he regales you with his day, “so then I worked more, we took a quick break to see some new things Garcia got for her office-” “That’s the computer lady, right,” you try to remember. “Mhm, she’s the one with all the trinkets I mentioned,” he confirms. You nod to yourself as he continues on, “then I just did random tasks until we all went home. Well, all of us besides Hotch, he usually stays later.” You remember Hotch as the stoic boss that Spencer likes, “sounds like a pretty good day!” “It was,” you can hear his smile through the phone, "just kind of boring compared to active cases. I never mind, a little break is always nice, but I’m so used to being go, go, go at this point that anything else feels kind of weird.” “I can understand that, I bet it feels weird to have nothing immediately dangerous going on.” “Definitely. Don’t get me wrong, we do get a fair amount of down time between cases, but after such a long one it feels weird.”

You nod thoughtfully, eventually getting the bravery to ask something you’ve been thinking about, “will you ever tell me about your cases? I know you told me some, but I mean like, the big ones.” Spencer pauses, clearly thinking of his words, “at some point I’d like to tell you more. I mostly just worry about upsetting you or exposing you to something unnecessarily harmful. I do want to tell you about my profession though. I think it might just be down the line.” “You won’t upset me, but I completely understand. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to tell me.” Spencer puffs a breath on the other end of the line, “thank you for being so understanding. Would you like to hear about one case that I do want to tell you about?" You perk up at that, happy to have him open up more, “absolutely.” “Okay, so there was this guy you might have seen on the news. His name was Peter Redding, he operated near you…”

A/N: This is chapter 4! This one is more focused on the emotions as they say goodbye for now. Don't hate me for how much I've been edging you guys with this one lol Thank you to anyone who's following along even though there's no smut yet! Next chapter will be posted on February 27th, so hang tight. Love you guys!

Masterlist Previous Chapter Chapter 1

You can’t sleep. You know that tomorrow he’ll be leaving. The clock taunts you, minutes flicking by faster than you want, time slipping past you like it knows how much this hurts. You know that you promised to stay in touch, but how long can that really last? You’re both adults with demanding jobs. His job might send him across the world at a moment's notice, or undercover in a situation that he can’t reach out for weeks on end. Your job, frequently, leads to you getting sucked into research rabbit holes where you forget to come up for air for 12 hours at a time. I mean, long distance is hard on long term romantic relationships, how hard would it be on a regular friendship? You have a foggy notion of recognition that this isn’t a regular friendship, but you push it away. As if you haven’t been completely inseparable since you reunited. As if he isn’t currently wrapped around your body like a particularly brazen ivy vine. You had briefly fallen asleep, the draining day at work taking you to a dreamless sleep, and when you woke a few hours later, there he was. He seemed at home against your skin, his hand tucked under your shirt and splayed across your ribs, he looked like he was right where he wanted to be.

As you waited to fall back asleep, you decided to scroll through your phone. Videos of cute animals, posts about new archaeological finds, stupid puns, anything to distract you. A video appeared in your feed, someone posting about taking pictures of your partner holding you while they sleep. Just a cute candid of the person most important to you to save for later. You giggle to yourself, the distraction having worked, and use the early morning rays seeping through your blinds to sneak a selfie of your unconscious friend. You can be seen in the bottom corner, sticking your tongue out as if to tease him. Spencer's hair is mussed, his cheek pressed to the top of your head and squishing his face slightly, a barely-there smile hiding in your hair. You think how good this will be for some sort of funny blackmail later and finally let yourself try to sleep again.

When you wake up, it’s about 8:30 and you’re still in Spencer's arms. This time you don’t leave. You don’t pretend to sleep. You don’t move away. You let yourself soak in as much of him as you can. You grab the book from your nightstand and thumb through it while you wait for him to wake up.

-

Spencer is roused by the rogue sun beams filtering through your blinds, a soft humming noise reaching his ears as he comes to life. One of his arms is under your head, the other draped over your waist. He has a hand in your shirt somehow and one of his legs is wrapped around one of your legs and slightly tucked between them. ‘Like I couldn’t possibly get close enough,’ he muses to himself. He exhales deeply, shutting his eyes and allowing himself to wake up before moving away from you. As he lays there and floats in your presence he realizes the humming sound hasn’t stopped. His eyes snap open, ‘they’re humming,’ he thinks as panic starts to fill him. ‘Are they awake,’ his fingers fidget against your skin. After a moment of being frozen in shock, he leans to look over your shoulder. Sure enough, you’re scrolling through some app as you hum quietly to yourself.

Your eyes suddenly flick to the movement over your shoulder. You felt him move, but figured he was just shifting in his sleep like he had been. “Oh hey, you’re up,” you beam up at him. His face is scarlet, you know it’s because you didn’t move away from him this time, but you can’t seem to make yourself worry too much. “H-hi, yeah, I’m u-up,” he stammers, clearly nervous as his fingers continue to twitch against you. After a moment of silence, he starts to move away, “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” You quickly grab his hand, “wait!” You stare at each other in silence, both stunned at your outburst. “I- uh, just figured, since it’s your last day,” your eyes drift away, color taking over your cheeks, “I wouldn’t mind a little physical contact before you leave for god knows how long.” Spencer remains frozen, hovering over you like a statue with his breath caught somewhere in his throat. Just as it starts to be too long since he’s moved he speaks up, “I’d love that if you’re really okay with it.” You nod and smile, “I’m definitely okay with it.” With that, Spencer settles back behind you with his face tilted to see your phone over the back of your head. “Have you seen this,” you lift your phone higher to show him a silly cat video you found online. He barks a laugh, “I haven’t seen it, but that’s amazing.” You turn slightly so he can watch your phone with you, scrolling through funny animal videos, and other goofy shortform videos on your feed. His giggles fill the air, floating through the sunrays like moats of dust, it fills you with joy, hearing him in your home in the comfort of his arms.

As the time passes you get more comfortable, turning to face him and share your phone screen more easily, Spencer's hand still pressed to your bare skin under your shirt. You feel his breath against your cheek, warm and distracting. He shifts against you occasionally, moving his arms or legs to adjust his position, and you find yourself chasing his touch every time he gets slightly too far away from you for your own liking. It’s not at the forefront, but the background noise in your mind is being controlled by worries about the current situation. ‘Am I too close? Does he like this? Why do I like this? What am I even doing? Are we going to talk about it?’

As if he’s read your mind, which with his profiling skills he probably has, he pipes up, “are you doing okay? What are you thinking about?” You mull over your words for a moment before answering, “are we going to talk about it?” He swallows hard, maybe automatically or maybe because he’s forgotten that you’re close enough to notice, “talk about what?” You sigh, “the cuddling. This.” Spencer relaxes against you slightly, only tensing again when you shift to look him in the eye. “Can I be honest,” he drops his voice lower, sincerity dripping from his words. You flush, scared of what he’s about to say, “always.” “You do this every night. When you fall asleep, you reach out for me and try to get as close to me as possible, so I hold you while you sleep.” Your system floods with embarrassment, face turning bright pink. “What,” your voice cracks slightly as you stare up at him. His face breaks into an adorable smile as he giggles at you, “yeah, I think you’re touch starved.” He notices your brain breaking and tries to stop his laughing, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I completely understand. I spend most of my life alone so I get the same way.” You bring your hands to your face, squealing quietly into your palms as you hide from Spencer, “oh my god, I can’t believe this.” You break into a fit of laughter, still hiding behind your hands, “I’m so sorry, this whole time I thought you were doing it!” “You knew,” Spencer nearly shrieks the question. “Yeah,” you keep laughing, near hysterics at the sheer goofiness, “I kept waking up before you and moving away because I didn’t want to embarrass you.” Spencer slaps his hand over his eyes, “oh my god. We’re so hopeless.” “We’re so bad at communicating, this is pathetic,” you finally uncover your face. “To be fair, we haven’t communicated since we were 10,” he scrubs his hand down his face with a smile. You giggle, “true.” Spencer shifts to meet your eyes again, “have you noticed me doing anything else in my sleep?” Your mind flashes to the state you woke up in the other day, a feeling you can’t quite identify rushing through you. You ultimately decide to keep the lie going, “nope, unless you count mumbling things.” Spencer chuckles, “good.” After a beat of silence, he continues, “so how are you feeling about this? Does it make you uncomfortable, because I can absolutely keep my distance?" “No, I don’t want distance. We’ve had enough distance. Having you here has been a great comfort and that includes the unconventional sleeping situation. I think it’s fine for us to be platonically affectionate, as long as you’re comfortable,” you reason. Spencer blushes a bit, a strange expression on his face, “I agree. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time and I’m happy to have us back together.”

You hang on the word ‘together’ it feels almost sharp in your chest when you’re laying in his arms, knowing that ‘together’ will never apply to you. “In that case, get over here,” you then throw your arm around him in a hug, pressing your face into his chest as he wraps his other arm around you. He giggles and rests his chin on the top of your head. You lay in silence for a long time, just basking in each other's presence. His chest rises and falls with his breath, soothing you near to sleep. One of his fingers traces lazy circles against your back as he holds you. “You’re so warm,” you mumble against him. As if he doesn’t hear you, he mutters almost to himself, “I don’t want to go.” You turn your face up a little, hoping to catch his eye, “I know. I don’t want you to leave either.” “Why’d you have to live so far away,” he groans dramatically. “Hey, I didn’t plan this,” you laugh, “I never thought I’d even see you again no matter where I lived.” “I would have found you someday, one way or another.” The way he says it is almost grim with determination, it makes your heart flutter, just how much he’s sure of it.

“Did you think about me a lot,” you ask before you’re aware the words are leaving your mouth. “All the time,” he sighs, “I had so many questions.” “Like what,” your voice whispers like a breeze through the trees. “What you did after I left. Where you were, how you were. What you might look like or sound like. If you remembered me…if you missed me. What you were going through. What I could have been there for. Who you’d become,” he rambles quietly. “Do you want answers? Now’s the perfect time to ask whatever you want,” you smile against his collarbone. “I’d do anything for answers,” his breath sweeps over your hair, whether it’s that or his tone that sends shivers through you, you aren’t sure. “Well, after you left I tried to make new friends. It didn’t work out so well. I eventually made friends, but they were fake and I was better off without them. I kept going to school, graduated early and went straight to college. I was a huge nerd,” you laugh wistfully, “I got into the school I wanted on a good scholarship and it led to an internship and eventual employment at a smaller museum before I got invited to have a spot at my current job.” “I had a couple relationships that didn’t work out, I regret one of them. I left Las Vegas when I was 19, I moved twice before ending up here. How I was has always been complicated. Sometimes good, sometimes the kind of struggling where I wanted nothing more than to give up, but I’m here. I remembered you,” you look up to find him watching you now, “I missed you so much and I thought of you all the time. I remembered you in the little things, stuff I’d see in store windows and hear in passing conversations. It felt like you haunted my life sometimes. You missed a lot, first dates, tests I stressed about, proms, graduations, my first car, embarrassing moments, happy moments, everything if we’re being honest. The important thing is that you’re here now. You get to see what I look like, hear what I sound like, and meet the person I’ve become. Hopefully you like them as much as you liked the me you knew before.” He smiles at you now, his sonderous expression cracking into something pleasant, “I might like you more now.” You smile back and let your heart swell without guilt this time, “I think I like you more too.”

The two of you stare in silence, for longer than you should, before you say, “what about you? What did I miss?” Spencer sighs, squeezing his eye shut before laughing almost painfully, “how much time do you have? So much has happened to me in such a short time, I wouldn’t know where to start.” “How was high school? Was it as shit as my high school years,” you chuckle. He barks a laugh, “probably! You remember how I used to get teased a lot? So much worse. The bullying got so bad. Even now I have to defend myself sometimes.” You smooth your hand over his side, “I’m so sorry, Spence. I get how you feel.” His eyes soften, “it’s okay. I’ve moved past it mostly.” You turn your face down, pressing your head against his chest again, “just say the word and I’ll take care of anyone that makes fun of you.” “Careful or my team might have to take you down,” he brushes a hand over your hair. “Like you’d stop me, you wouldn’t even be able to catch me,” you chuckle. “Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” “I’ll bet, get out of jail free card if I win the bet,” you quirk your eyebrows even though he can’t see them. “In order for you to win you’d have to never be caught, so we’d probably never see each other again,” he frowns even at the potential for this, very fake, scenario. “Ah. Guess I can’t do that then,” you sigh, “I’ll just get them all banned from the museum." “Oh god, no, a fate worse than death,” he throws his head back in mock dramatics. You giggle, curling into him more as his shoulders shake with laughter.

You and Spencer talk more, not noticing how the hours fly by until you’re interrupted. “-So we’re supposed to be interviewing this guy, but he goes w-” the rest of Spencer's sentence is cut off by his stomach growling loud enough to completely silence the both of you. “Wow. You got something to tell me,” you glance up at him. “Uh, I guess I’m hungry,” he smiles sheepishly. “Do you want to cook something or order in,” you smirk at him. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to cook together again before I leave,” he averts his eyes awkwardly. “I’d be honored,” you reassure him.

You settle on making a nice brunch for yourselves, traipsing to the kitchen still in your pajamas. You start to pull out ingredients and supplies as Spencer leans against the counter. He watches your every move, a sort of weary ease on his face. It’s like he’s at peace and war with himself at the same time, but you chalk it up to fears around leaving. He rests his hip and one hand against the counter, the other hand laying at his side and fidgeting with his pajama pants. “How do you feel about crepes,” he suddenly asks. You whip your head around to look at him, “if you let me make crepes right now, I might just have to marry you.” You both laugh, you to mask how much you didn’t intend to say that, and him to hide how much that thought hurts him even if it is a joke. “Guess we’re doing crepes then,” he sweeps his hair out of his face and moves to help you grab things.

Your kitchen isn’t small necessarily, but it’s not meant for two people to be moving around together continuously. As Spencer takes ingredients from you to set on the counter you try to avoid bumping him. You try to grab all the things you’ll need, bowls, spatulas, and the like, but can’t grab the frying pan so Spencer reaches for it. With your arms full, he slides past you, he rests one hand against your waist to help you to keep from bumping into him. Your heart sings at the touch, something so simple yet so significant. You place your items on the counter and turn to Spencer, who silently holds the frying pan up for you. “Do you want to whisk or should I,” you beam at him. “I’m whisking, obviously,” he moves past you to grab the whisk before you can. You laugh, crinkling your nose as you smile, “perfect, I hate whisking.” You hand him some eggs and move to measure the other ingredients you need. Your cooking is more like a dance. Spencer completing a step and you being right there to have the next thing ready. You swish about the kitchen, avoiding collision, laughing and chatting the whole way.

Spencer tries out his new flipping skills, having a harder time with the lighter material, sending the finished crepes to you to put on your plates and douse in toppings. You sit down in your living room, satisfied with the results of your dance. You stuff your face faster than you normally would, having spent so much time in bed that you’re famished. Luckily, Spencer does the same. You, somehow, end up with powdered sugar on your face. You don’t notice it, but Spencer does. He simply leans across the couch and extends his hand. Your eyes go wide as your face warms, wondering what’s happening. He swipes his thumb across your cheek, slowly pulling his hand back and licking the sugar off his thumb without breaking eye contact. “Powdered sugar,” he mumbles, finally looking away. “Thanks,” you mutter back, turning to hopefully hide some of the blush. You quickly stand, swiping Spencer's plate once you’re up, and speed them out to the kitchen. You chuck the plates in the sink, cursing yourself for watching him lick his thumb how you did. “I’ll do dishes later, I don’t want to waste any of the time you have left with getting my hands all sudsy,” you announce, maybe a little too loud, to give yourself time to calm down. When you turn, Spencer just gives you a curt nod alongside a small smile.

After a brief intermission to get changed into real clothes, you march yourself back to the living room and plop down on the couch, turning to smile at Spencer as a way to ask ‘what now’ without having to speak. “You know something I never really got to do growing up,” he grins anxiously. “What’s that,” your eyes are expectant. He looks away, pausing before letting his eyes find you again, “truth or dare.” You laugh raucously, “you want to play truth or dare with me, Spence?” He nods, smile growing wider at your enthusiasm. “You are so on, you start,” you try to stop laughing so he can go. He suddenly looks nervous, “uh…truth or dare?” “Truth, an easy start for you,” you chuckle. He thinks for a second, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling, “uh, I- have you ever done drugs?” You laugh at the innocence of his first question, “yes, I’ve tried weed a handful of times. I never got into the harder stuff that was popular in my school though, Adderall seemed like too much to me. Truth or dare, bud?” “Truth,” he twiddles his fingers slightly. “What about you,” you glance at his hands, before looking in his eyes again, “have you ever tried drugs?” He looks away, blushing, “I have.” “What? That’s all I get,” you giggle until you see the look on his face, inferring that something around the topic upset him. “We can circle back to this whenever you’re ready. Your turn.” “Truth or dare,” his face lightens a bit at your refusal to push. “Dare,” you say casually. “Spin around three times,” he shrugs, as if he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. You do as you’re told, sitting back down and pointing a finger at him, “truth or dare?” “Dare.” You smile, “balance a spoon on your nose for thirty seconds.” He gets up and saunters over to the kitchen, dramatically pulling a spoon from the drawer and resting it on his face. “Start counting,” he mutters as he watches the spoon. You watch as he bobs around, trying to keep the spoon in place until you finally announce, “done! That was really impressive!” “And totally not embarrassing,” he laughs, walking back over to the couch, “Truth or dare?” “Dare,” you just want to see what other ideas he has, the spinning was super tame. He rolls his eyes, “sit on the floor for the next three rounds.” You climb down onto your knees with a sigh, maintaining eye contact the whole way, “I think you just like telling me what to do with these dares.” He laughs, “totally not.” “Then I guess you just want me down here, huh?” When you realize what that can imply, you try to save it, “-ya know, so you can have more space on the couch.” His face is beet red and his laugh is slightly strained as you look up at him from the ground, “ye-eah totally.”

“Truth or dare,” you rush through the phrase this time. “Truth,” he finally changes the route you’ve both been on. You watch his face, “do you have anyone waiting back home? Maybe a pretty profiler you’ve been waiting to take out?” He chokes on nothing, “you mean like romantically? Like do I have any relationship prospects back home?” You giggle, “well I wanted to ask less clinically, but yeah.” “No,” he barks a laugh, “the only thing waiting for me at home is a reading list a mile long.” “Truth or dare,” he changes the subject. “Truth,” you follow his lead. “Do you have any romantic prospects?” Looking at him from the floor is hard so you let your eyes fall to a spot on the floor, “Nah. I feel like I’ve hit the bottom of the dating pool here, I don’t have much interest in the people I’ve met. I went on a couple dates a while ago that went nowhere. I don’t even hook up with people so I haven’t even had sex in a long time.” “Can I go out of turn,” Spencer asks. “Absolutely not,” you smile softly. He sighs, “fine then I pick dare.” “You know, Spence,” you look at him again, “dares are usually more risque in this game.” He blinks, “Yeah? Hit me with one then.” You laugh, “uh, loosen up a bit.” He blinks harder, “what?” “Like take your sweater vest off, undo a couple buttons or something,” you laugh, but the sound is hollow, nervous. He sighs, but complies, “is that risqué?” “Absolutely not,” you chortle, releasing tension more than anything. He nods, thinking. “Okay, truth or dare?” “Dare,” you chirp. He nods again, looking away as if to build resolve before turning back, “three turns is over.” You raise an eyebrow. “So you don’t have to sit on the floor anymore.” “Ah,” you nod, rising to your feet. “I- I dare you to sit on my lap.”

His eyes burn into you as you stare at him from next to the couch. Shaking your head enough to reboot your system, you ask, “alright. How do you want me?” His chest and ears are red, the blush creeping onto his face, “h-however you’re comfortable.” You climb onto his lap, testing positions. You sit sideways across his legs and decide that doesn’t work super well, you turn your back to him and lean against his chest, but then he’s just breathing down your neck, so you finally accept your fate. You turn to face him, straddling his thighs and resting your hands on his shoulders. He’s breathing harder than normal and he’s the reddest you’ve ever seen him. “Sorry,” you whisper, “this is most comfortable.” He clears his throat, “is this risqué enough?” “Definitely,” you laugh, “truth or dare?” “Dare,” his voice is thick with something you can’t parse together. You look down at his lips, hoping he doesn’t notice and if he does, that he’ll take the hint that you haven’t even deciphered that you’re sending, “do whatever you want.” “What,” his voice isn’t as nervous as he looks, quiet, but not afraid. “I dare you to do whatever you want,” your eyes drift to his. The tension in the room is suffocating, your heart beating out of your throat as his hands suddenly move after too much pause. His hands land on your waist and he slowly slides them across you until he’s holding you in his arms.

“Truth or dare,” he breathes out. “Truth,” your voice is quiet, awaiting an impact you don’t want to admit you crave. He pauses, “when was the last time you had sex?” Your eyes flick away for a moment, self-consciousness settling into your skin, “o-over a year. Like a couple weeks before I left my ex.” Spencer's jaw drops slightly, “a-a year?” “Over a year,” you correct, hoping for some humor to save you, “like, a year and three months or something.” Spencer stares at you, “that sucks.” You laugh sarcastically, “poor baby, huh? However, will I survive?” Spencer smiles, “it’s just too bad.” “Yeah, well, finding people that like what I like and aren’t annoying fuckboys is basically impossible. I also have no interest in one time deals, so here I am,” you throw your arms out, a little annoyed at the impossibility. “I’m sure you can find someone,” he smiles. You’re sure he didn’t mean it this way, but it does feel like ‘you’ll find someone, somewhere else. Certainly not with the guy who's currently holding you on his lap.’ You look away, avoiding his gaze, “yeah, I’m not really looking though. I kinda gave up a while ago, I’m good on my own.” You laugh awkwardly when you meet his eyes, a sort of panicked sound forcing its way from your lungs. His eyes are boring into you. Sad puppy eyes that drink in your every micro-expression. A feeling finally claws its way from deep in your gut, a feeling you suddenly need to confront, despite your best efforts to bury it. You want to kiss him. You want to kiss his stupid, pouty lips. You want to taste him and know him in a way you haven’t before. You let your eyes fall to his lips even though you know nothing will happen. You study them. The way they twitch before he smiles, the color, the plushness, everything you can learn without touching.

“Where’d you go,” he chuckles. You blink, “huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking.” “Abooouuttt??” You look at him as he raises his eyebrows in question. He smiles wider, teasing, “were you thinking about the last time you had sex?” You splutter a guffaw, “oh god, no! The last time I had sex was so bad I wish it was immemorable!” “Oh god, really? How bad,” he winces. Now you smirk, “you already asked my truth.” He groans dramatically, “come oooon.” You motion a zipper over your mouth as you shake your head at him. He rolls his eyes and huffs at you. “Truth or dare, oh curious one,” you giggle. “Truth.” “What’s the story of the last time you had sex,” you smile at him, an evil grin carved into your face. He exhales heavily, “oh god, I don’t even know.” His fingers fidget anxiously against your waist, “it wasn’t very romantic. Rushed, someone I didn’t follow up with afterwards, I had to sneak back to the hotel before my whole team noticed in the morning. She was a good kisser, but we wouldn’t have meshed in a real relationship and I just wanted to get something out of my system.” You stare at him in a mild state of shock. “What,” he notices. “You had a one night stand? Spencer Reid has one night stands,” you deadpan. He flushes, “is that so shocking? I’m an adult. Also don’t say ‘has’ like it happens all the time. I was having a moment,” he puffs something close to a nervous laugh. You break, shoulders bouncing with laughter, “I’m kidding! It’s only a little shocking. I didn’t think you the type.” He blushes more, backing away in offense, “I’m not the type! I just needed to get out of my head,” he seems more worried about offending you than anything. “Oh, by getting under someone? I see how you work,” you laugh, only relenting when you feel you’ve embarrassed him enough, “I know you aren’t a womanizer, I’m just teasing.” He sighs, a slight pout to his face. Mock disgruntled, he continues, “truth or dare? Jerk.” “Dare,” you grin again. His eyes flick to you, “I dare you to tell me about that bad sex with your ex.” You slap his chest, “you can’t dare me into a truth!” Whining now he flops his head against your shoulder, “I wanna know so I can properly make fun of this asshole.” “Since when are you so nosey,” you look down at his ruffled curls. His breath is warm against your chest, "I've always been like this, you just haven’t had anything interesting to tell me.” At that you push him back, fake outrage awaiting him when he can see you again, “what about the drama of drums from the high middle ages isn’t interesting?”

He laughs so hard he snorts slightly and it's so cute you decide to let him win. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you.” His eyes light up as he settles in for the harrowing tale of your ex and his lack of prowess. “Okay,” you sigh, “it was before I knew about the cheating, but things had been bad for a while. We, if we’re being honest, never really matched sexually. He wanted what he wanted and I wanted things he, apparently, couldn’t provide. The last time we had sex it was right after an argument, and you’d think ‘hate sex, hot’ right?” He nods, engrossed in your story. “Well you’d be wrong. He bent me over the couch, which was about as adventurous as it got, and we were done in about six minutes. I didn’t even get most of my clothes off and when he was done he just went to play a video game in the bedroom,” you throw your hands up and frown in a ‘what can ya do’ motion. Spencer stares at you for a long moment, eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you-” You cut him off before he finishes his question, “nope. I think I did like ten times in our whole relationship, max.” “Did you talk to him about it?” “Multiple times. We tried to work on his technique a few times, but he got impatient or bored and decided it was my fault.” Spencer looks shocked and enraged, “you know how I told you not to kill your coworker? I’m about to ignore my own advice and kill your ex.” You laugh, “he’s not worth it. Just find me someone that knows what they’re doing and we’ll consider me avenged.” He nods solemnly, “can do.” “Do you have any ex’s I need to kill,” you put the spotlight back on him, ready to have the focus off you. Something sparks in his eyes that you don’t understand, but it seems sad. He shakes his head, giving you a smile and moving on immediately. “Wait. Have you gotten a new couch since you broke up?” “No,” you look away anxiously. Spencer looks disgusted, “oh no. Is this the couch?” You simply nod, a giggle bubbling up inside you at his fake horror. He feigns outrage at the new information and you can’t help but laugh. “Spencer, you’ve been sleeping in my bed. I’ve had sex in that bed,” you snort. “No, I can’t believe this, the horror, oh the horror,” he throws the back of his hand against his forehead, as if to swoon. You swat at him again and he drops the act. “I’m ready to be asked a horribly embarrassing question or be made to do something horribly embarrassing.” You make a circle with your index finger in the air, “get up and spin around in a circle until I tell you to stop.”

A down right evil grin creeps across his face. Before you have time to protest His hands skirt under your thighs and he’s hoisting you as he rises to his feet. He lifts you with him, pulling a squeak from you, laughing mischievously as he moves. “Spencer,” you shriek as he starts to spin. You wrap your arms around him tighter, pressing your face into his chest as he laughs. You hadn’t realized he was this strong and you kick yourself a little for being surprised. Knowing his job it makes sense, but it’s still a little shocking. After long enough you finally pipe up, “okay, stop!” With a final, rather triumphant laugh, he flops you down onto the couch below him as he hovers over you. With the tension of being on his lap finally broken you let loose a laugh that pushes the final bits of apprehension from your chest, hoping he can’t sense the relief and loss in it. You roll to the side and pull yourself back up to a seated position so he can join you on the couch again. He flops down on the couch and the game continues, largely without incident, as you both seem to decide it’s time for lower stakes questions and dares.

At some point you order yourselves food, eating greasy Chinese food in a rush so you can get back to talking as the time winds down to his flight. You find yourself desperate to keep him talking, which normally wouldn’t be an issue, but he seems desperate to hear you speak. You battle between making him happy and wanting to fulfill your own selfish needs of listening to his soft voice. Eventually you look at the clock and are not met with a friendly sight. Spencer follows your eyes and sighs before you even have the chance to let yourself acknowledge what happens next. “I guess it’s time,” he whispers. You nod, wanting to find some reason he should stay, but coming up with only the reasons he can’t. The two of you slowly trudge to the door, grabbing his things on the way. You slip on your shoes and coats as slowly as you can, both trying to stall what’s to come. When you make it to the car you don’t play music, you just sit in the silence together. You drive the whole way to the airport without saying a word as if speaking will make it go by faster.

Pulling up to the airport, you find parking and unload his things. You walk together, hand in hand yet again, to get him checked in. You walk with him until you can’t anymore, stopping just outside the line to security. He finally turns to you, eyes heavy with emotion, “so…” The end of the sentence doesn’t come, he just watches you. “Don’t forget about me,” you realize how serious that sounds and try to cut the tension by adding, “don’t forget I exist or anything.” He smiles, soft and sad, “I could never.” He pauses again, letting himself rake his eyes over you like he’ll never see you again. “Thank you for letting me stay with you. I had an amazing time and I can’t wait to visit again,” he keeps his voice soft like this farewell isn’t meant for your public setting. “Thank you for staying with me. You don’t know how much I needed you in my life again, but I’m better for having you here,” you smile, trying not to crack. “I’ll visit whenever I can and you can always come see me. I’ll let you know where I am so we can plan something whenever we’re both around.” You rub your thumb over his skin, hand still in his, reassuring him and yourself with one motion. You look up at him, letting the tears prick your eyes finally. “Don’t let this be goodbye forever.” He frowns before pulling it back into a smile, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” With that he pulls you into a hug. His arms are tight around you like he hopes to mold you together, he’s warm and comforting, but the feeling leaves something cold and alone in you. You worry he won’t come back or you’ll be forgotten once he gets on that plane, but the hug is a reminder of how much he wants you back too. You stand there for far too long, watching the line dwindle to nothing over his shoulder, just embracing and soaking in as much as you can. When you glance at the clock and get anxious for Spencer's ability to make it to his gate, you know it’s time to let go. You slowly release each other, reluctant. When you see his face again his eyes are red and you can see tear tracks on his cheeks. This goodbye shouldn’t be so emotional, but you both have something bigger looming over this moment. “I should go,” he whispers, “thank you for letting me back into your life.” “Thank you for coming back.” Without another word he slips away, walking slowly towards the last members of the security line to join them. When he reaches them, turning to find you still standing there, he waves delicately. “See you later,” he says with a confidence that doesn’t match his body language. You return his farewell and he waits in the line, watching you. Once he’s done showing his identification to the agent, he disappears into security.