#dom!hotch

You’re leaning over the evidence table, deliberately bending farther than necessary to reach a photo, when Rossi sidles up beside you.

“You trying to get fired, kid?” he mutters under his breath. Already knowing exactly what you're playing at. Rossi knows Hotch too well, knows you too well. And has definitely figured out just what your relationship entails behind closed doors.

You don’t even look at him. “Just keeping him on his toes, David.”

He hums, unconvinced. “He’s gonna put you on your knees later, and not in the fun way.”

You grin, sharp and sweet, when in reality you should've been mortified at the words coming out of Rossi's mouth. “We’ll see.”

Hotch’s voice cuts across the bullpen. “L/N. My six. Now.”

You straighten slowly, brushing imaginary lint off your shirt. “Yes, sir.”

You saunter over, boots echoing, and stop just inside his personal space, close enough that he has to tilt his head down to glare at you.

The rest of the room pretends they’re suddenly very very busy. And definitely not listening to whatever is about to happen between the two of you.

“You’re off the raid,” he says, voice low enough that only you can hear the tremor of fury underneath. Meaning that you've just struck bingo, and Hotch is giving you exactly what you were playing for later.

You blink, all mock innocence, before you raise your brows at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re staying here with the locals.”

You laugh, actually laugh, straight in his face. “No, I’m not.”

“That wasn’t a request.” His eyes flash, his pupils dilating, darkening. You can tell that he is trying to claw his way out of Hotch, begging to be released upon you.

“And this isn’t a negotiation.” You step closer, dropping your voice to a purr. “You want me on a leash, Aaron, you’re gonna have to put it on me yourself. In front of everyone. Go ahead.” You cross your arms over your chest.

His nostrils flare. For one electric second, you think he might actually do it, might snap right here, take his belt off, and drag you out by the back of your neck like you both know you want him to.

Instead, he exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, trying to ground himself before he says something too unprofessional. When he finally speaks, he leans down to whisper in your ear through gritted teeth, “Fine! You’re with me. You leave my sight for less than .01 seconds, I'll cuff you to the SUV and leave you in the car overnight like some abandoned pet left on the side of the road. Try me.”

You lick your bottom lip. “Promise?”

He turns on his heel before he does something he can’t take back in front of twenty witnesses and the entirety of his team.

The raid is a clusterfuck waiting to happen, and you are the match.

Hotch wants to go in quietly through the back. You’re already halfway across the parking lot toward the front door before he grabs your vest and yanks you back.

“Jesus Christ, do you have a death wish today?” He says, leaving little to no discussion in his tone, you know that tone all too well, even strive to get it out of him on occasion... well, more times than not.

You spin, grinning up at him. “Only if you’re the one pulling the trigger.”

He looks like he’s two seconds from gagging you with his own tie and bending you over right here, right now.

Morgan’s voice crackles over comms. “Hotch, we’re set on the east side. You two coming or getting a room?”

You reach up and key your own comm without looking away from Hotch. “We’re coming, 'baby girl'. Unit Chief’s just having a little performance anxiety.” You can already imagine Morgan's confused look at the nickname.

Hotch rips the earpiece out of your ear and crushes it under his boot.

You whistle, low and a little playful. “That’s destruction of FBI property, sir. Very naughty.”

He grabs the front of your vest this time, hauling you in until you’re nose to nose. There he is. “You do not speak again until this unsub is in cuffs. Not one fucking word. Nod if you understand.”

You nod, solemn and mocking. Already planning to break that exact promise.

He releases you like you’re radioactive.

The warehouse is a maze of rusted machinery and broken skylights. Moonlight stripes the concrete floor. You move ahead of Hotch, deliberately, clearing corners before he can tell you to wait.

He hisses your name, barely audible.

You ignore him.

You hear the unsub before you see him: panicked breathing, the clatter of a dropped magazine. He’s reloading behind a stack of crates twenty feet ahead.

You raise your weapon before you step into the open.

Hotch swears viciously behind you and moves to cover, but you’re already talking.

“FBI! Drop it!”

The unsub spins, wild-eyed, gun up.

You don’t flinch.

Hotch is shouting your name now, furious and afraid all at the same time, but you keep your voice steady, taunting. “Come on, sweetheart. You wanted us to chase you. Here I am.”

The unsub’s finger tightens on the trigger.

Hotch’s arm hooks around your waist from behind, and he yanks you sideways, throwing you both sideways behind a forklift just as the shot rings out. Concrete explodes exactly where you were just standing.

You land half on top of him, ears ringing, heart slamming against your ribs.

He’s shaking with rage, hands gripping your vest so hard the straps bite.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls into your face.

You grin, breathless, high on adrenaline and the feel of him under you. “You’re welcome.”

Another shot pings off metal above your heads.

Hotch flips you onto your back, shielding you with his body, weapon already up. His voice in your ear is lethal. “Stay. Down.”

This time, you finally listen.

He rises in one fluid motion, one precise shot to his leg, and the unsub drops like a puppet that just had its strings cut.

Silence falls in the warehouse, broken only by distant shouting as the rest of the team floods in.

Hotch holsters his weapon, turns back to you, where you’re pushing to your feet.

You meet his eyes across the moonlit warehouse, chest heaving, blood thundering in your ears.

The unsub is down.

The cuffs are clicking.

And Aaron Hotchner looks like he’s deciding exactly how long it’s going to take to make you cry tonight.

The jet is grounded until at least morning due to a mechanical failure in the engine, so the team books into the hotel closest to the hangar and landing strip.

Everyone’s exhausted, adrenaline crashing hard, all a little annoyed from the lack of sleeping in their own beds tonight. But the air between you and Hotch is still a live current, ready to explode any second now.

You’re leaning against the check-in desk, tapping your badge against your palm, when Hotch steps up beside you and quietly tells the clerk, “Two singles.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Separate rooms,” you echo, loud enough for Hotch and the clerk to hear. You flash him a saccharine smile. “How very professional of us, Agent Hotchner. Gotta keep up appearances for the Bureau. Wouldn’t want anyone to know their precious unit chief has been balls-deep in his subordinate every night for the last eight months.”

The night clerk’s eyes go wide. Rossi, waiting for his key behind you, chokes on a laugh which he pretends is a cough.

Hotch doesn’t flinch. He just signs the receipt with a pen that might actually snap in his grip, then hands you a keycard.

“Room 312,” he says, voice flat. “I’ll be there in five minutes. You open that door for anyone else, you won’t sit for a month.”

He walks away before you can answer.

You take the stairs two at a time, pulse already racing.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, the mask is gone.

He shrugs out of his jacket, tosses it toward the chair in the corner of the room, and stalks toward you like a predator who’s finally off leash and pouncing straight toward its next meal.

“Strip!”

You arch a brow at him. “Please?”

He’s on you in two strides, hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back, hard.

“Don’t push me any further tonight,” he warns. “You’ve used up every last ounce of patience I have.”

“Good.” You smile slowly up at him.

He kisses you all teeth, no mercy, until you’re gasping against his mouth. Then he spins you, shoves you chest-first over the foot of the bed, yanks your jeans and panties down in one rough motion.

His palm slides between your shoulder blades, pinning you flat. You feel the heat of him behind you, the hard line of his cock pressing against your ass through his slacks.

“You’ve been begging for this all day,” he says, his voice low and more controlled than you had anticipated when you started pushing him this morning. It's the way he gets right before he completely unravels you. “Every smart-ass comment, every eye roll, every time you said my title like it’s a fucking joke. You want my attention? You have it.”

He drags your hips back until you’re bent perfectly for him, feet barely touching the carpet. The first thrust of his clothed hips against your bare skin is deliberate, grinding, a promise and a threat all at once.

You push back, greedy for him to enter you.

He stills you with one hand splayed over the base of your spine, the other winding your hair around his fist until your neck arches.

“Stay still,” he growls. “You move when I tell you to move.” He leans over you, mouth at your ear. “Color?”

“Green,” you breathe, already trembling. “So fucking green.”

He pulls back just enough to unbuckle his belt, the metallic clink loud in the almost silent room. You hear his zipper, feel the blunt, bare heat of him drag up the seam of your body.

He doesn’t enter you. Not yet.

Instead, he notches himself at your entrance and holds there, agonizingly still, while you try to rock back and take him, sheathe yourself on his cock. His grip on your hair tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you.

“Beg!”

“Please, Sir—”

“Louder.”

“Please fuck me, Sir, I need—”

He slams into you in one brutal stroke, no warning, filling you so suddenly your breath catches on a scream.

Your legs wrap around nothing, toes curling into the carpet, hips snapping hard enough to jolt the bedframe into the wall with every thrust.

He flips you onto your back without pulling out, hooking your knees over his elbows, and spreading you wide. The new angle drags a broken sound from your throat as his thrusts take him deeper and deeper.

“Look at you,” he growls against your collarbone as he shoves your shirt up and runs his mouth over your skin, teeth scraping against you. “Acting like a spoiled little brat in front of the entire team. You think they didn’t notice? You think I didn’t see the way Morgan smirked every time you opened that mouth?”

“Maybe I wanted them to know,” you taunt, breathless, reaching for him. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t belong to—”

He cuts you off by pulling out entirely and flipping you again, this time onto your knees, face and chest pressed against the mattress.

He thrusts back in so hard your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets.

“Say it,” he snarls, one hand sliding up to collar your throat from behind, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave a bruise in the morning. “Finish that sentence.”

“I belong to you,” you sob, clenching around him. “Only you—fuck—Aaron—”

“That’s right.” He presses you deeper into the bed, hips relentless. “You’re mine. And tomorrow, when you can’t walk straight and my cum still dripping down your thighs during our briefing on the jet, you’ll remember exactly who you answer to.”

He reaches beneath you, finds your clit with better precision than a trained sharpshooter, no searching, no hesitation, just the rough pad of his finger settling right where you’re swollen and aching for him. He doesn’t move at first. Just presses, holds, lets you feel the weight of that single point of contact while his cock throbs inside you, stretching you open, owning every trembling inch.

You try to rock back, to chase more, but his grip turns iron.

“Stay,” he growls against the shell of your ear, breath hot, voice shredded. “You take what I give you.”

Then he starts to move, slow, cruel circles that drag over your clit with exactly enough pressure to make your thighs shake. Every stroke is perfectly timed with the roll of his hips, the thick drag of him pulling out until only the head remains before he slams back in, forcing the air from your lungs.

Your hands claw at the sheets. Your spine arches so hard it hurts. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter, vicious and unstoppable, until you’re sobbing his name into the pillow, broken and desperate little pleas of his name.

He speeds up, just barely, thumb flicking faster, hips snapping harder, the wet sound of him fucking you filling the room along with your wrecked moans.

“Cum,” he orders, voice cracking with restraint. “Cum on my cock right now. Show me who you belong to.”

The command rips through you.

You shatter, back bowing, toes curling, a raw scream tearing from your throat as your entire body locks down around him. Wave after wave crashes over you, so intense your vision whites out, every pulse of your orgasm dragging him deeper, milking him with greedy, rhythmic clenches.

He swears once and loses the last thread of control. His rhythm stutters, hips slamming forward one final time as he cums with a rough groan, spilling inside you.

You feel every throb, every pulse, the way he jerks and grinds through it, forehead pressed hard between your shoulder blades like he’s trying to fuse himself to your skin.

He stays there, buried to the hilt, chest heaving against your back, both of you trembling in the aftermath, slick with sweat and utterly spent. You can’t help it, your hips give a tiny, greedy roll, chasing the last sparks of pleasure, trying to keep him deep.

A soft, satisfied moan slips out of you.

Hotch’s chuckle rumbles against your spine. His arms tighten, pinning you flat to the mattress so you can’t move an inch further than you've already wiggled.

“You think we’re done?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. He nips the lobe hard enough to make you gasp. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my time to play.”

He pulls out slowly, letting you feel every inch drag against your oversensitive walls. You whine at the sudden emptiness, but before you can protest, he’s already moving, shirt buttons flying, slacks kicked the rest of the way off, socks gone.

In seconds, he’s gloriously bare, all hard lines, cock still half-hard and glistening with your cum.

He turns his attention to you next, signaling with his hand for you to flip over on your back. You do as ordered.

Your shirt is shoved up under your arms. He yanks it off, unhooks your bra, and tosses both across the room. Then he grabs his discarded tie and crawls over you.

“Hands up,” he orders.

You obey instantly, stretching your arms above your head. He loops the tie around your wrists, threads it through the headboard, and cinches it tight. Not painful, but absolutely inescapable from your end of the deal. You tug once; the silk holds firm.

A helpless little thrill shoots straight to your core.

He settles between your thighs again, slides back inside you with one smooth thrust that makes your back arch. You’re so wet, so swollen, the stretch burns in the best way, you're not sure you can take the sensation much longer before cumming again.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice rough. “Stay just like that.”

He starts slow. Long and deep strokes that hit every spot inside you. His mouth finds your neck, your breasts, sucking bruises into your skin while his hips roll in that maddening rhythm he knows drives you absolutely insane.

It doesn’t take long before you’re writhing, breath hitching, thighs trembling around his waist.

“Please! Sir, I’m close,” you whimper.

He pulls out completely.

You cry out, hips bucking at nothing. He watches you struggle against the tie, thighs squeezing together for friction that isn’t there.

“Shh.” He strokes your hip in a soothing yet cruel manner. “Calm down a little. We’re nowhere near done.”

He waits until your breathing evens, until the desperation fades, then slides back in and starts all over again.

He does it four times.

Four times, he builds you right to the brink, fingers on your clit, mouth on your nipples, cock dragging slow and steady against your walls, until you’re sobbing, begging, tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes.

The fifth time you get loud, really loud, a broken, whining “Please, please, I can’t—” spilling out over and over.

Hotch clicks his tongue. “Too noisy, baby.” He reaches for your discarded panties and balls them up. “Open.”

You shake your head, playful defiance flaring even through the haze.

He arches a brow. “Open that pretty mouth, or I stop entirely and you get nothing.”

Your lips part instantly. He stuffs the panties in, the taste of yourself flooding your tongue, muffling every sound to desperate, garbled whimpers.

“There we go,” he croons, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek. “Much better.”

He fucks you like that for what feels like hours. He comes once deep inside you again, groaning your name against your throat. Pulls out, strokes himself, and paints thick stripes across your stomach and breasts.

Later, he pushes your knees to your chest, and spills across your face while you keen helplessly behind the gag.

Each time he finishes, he starts again, sliding through the mess he’s made across your frame, using it to make you slicker, filthier. You lose count of his orgasms. You’re a trembling, oversensitive wreck, and still he denies you that second release, pulling out the instant your walls start to flutter.

Finally, finally, he collapses over you, sweat-slick and breathless, cock spent and utterly dry. He reaches up and carefully unties your wrists, massaging the faint red marks with his thumbs. Then he gently pulls the soaked panties from your mouth. You work your jaw, swallowing hard, voice hoarse.

He kisses you softly. “Up,” he murmurs.

You’re boneless, but he helps you sit. He slides the same wet panties that he just pulled from your mouth back up your legs, tugging them into place with deliberate care. The fabric settles against your abused, swollen pussy, trapping every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the pressure.

He leaves for a second before coming back with a wet cloth in his hand.

When he settles back down beside you, he cups your chin, tilts your face to his, and with the warm cloth, he cleans your cheeks, your lips, your eyelashes with tender, reverent strokes that make you melt against his hand.

But when you reach for a tissue to wipe your chest and stomach, he catches your wrist.

“No.” His voice drops into that stern, deep tone that makes you freeze. “You don’t clean the rest off. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until we’re wheels-down at Quantico and you’re standing in my shower at home. You’re going to feel me on your skin every second on the jet, every time you shift in your chair. You’ll remember exactly who you bratted off to today, and exactly who owns every inch of this body. Understood?”

You nod, throat tight, arousal somehow flaring all over again despite everything.

“Yes, Sir.”

He smiles, a small, satisfied, and soft smile, before he pulls you into his chest. His hand spreads possessively over the sticky mess on your stomach, holding you close.

“Sleep, trouble,” he whispers into your hair. “You’re going to need it.

You’re already half-asleep when he speaks again, voice low in the dark.

“Next time you pull a stunt like that in the field, I won’t wait until we’re in a hotel room.”

You smile against his skin, sore and sated and utterly ruined.

“Next time,” you mumble, “I’ll be worse.”

He bites your shoulder in warning.

You wake up to the alarm on Hotch’s watch at 5:47 a.m. He’s already sitting on the edge of the bed, hair damp from the shower, knotting a fresh tie. You try to roll over and immediately regret it. Every muscle between your hips screams. Your thighs are sticky, your pussy swollen and aching, and when you clench experimentally, you feel the slow, obscene slide of everything he left inside you only a couple of hours ago.

He glances back, eyes satisfied.

“Up,” he says, voice still rough from sleep and sex. “Wheels up in forty.”

You groan. Actually groan. Getting vertical feels like an Olympic event that you never trained for.

He watches you struggle into yesterday’s jeans with the faintest smirk curling his mouth, when in reality, all you want is a pair of sweatpants.

The panties he pulled back up your legs after he finally untied you are soaked through, his cum, yours, the evidence of four separate loads, and every step makes the fabric drag against your oversensitive clit.

By the time you limp into the hotel lobby, the whole team is already waiting. Morgan does a double-take.

“Damn, sweetheart. You pull a muscle wrestling that unsub... or something?”

You flip him off with the hand that isn’t clutching your go-bag strap for support.

Hotch doesn’t say a word, just opens the back door of the SUV for you like a perfect gentleman, as you make it to the cars. You slide across the seat and bite the inside of your cheek to keep from whimpering when your ass meets cold and slightly hard leather.

On the jet, you take the seat farthest from the group, legs pressed tightly together, praying the movement of the plane doesn’t jostle anything loose. Hotch sits directly across the aisle from you, tablet in hand, leading the debrief like nothing happened last night. Like he didn’t wreck you so thoroughly that you’re still tasting him through your pussy.

He starts with the profile review. You’re supposed to contribute. Instead, you’re hyper-aware of the slow trickle working its way down your thigh every time the jet banks left. You shift, and the wet drag of cotton against your folds makes you swallow a gasp.

Hotch’s eyes flick to you. Calm and professional. Except for the slight curve at the corner of his mouth that says he knows exactly what you’re feeling.

“Agent L/N,” he says smoothly, “care to walk us through the victimology again and what we can learn from it for future cases?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Clear your throat. “Uh. Females, twenty-two to twenty-nine, brunettes, all abducted within—”

Your voice cracks on the last word because the plane hits a pocket of turbulence, and you feel a fresh pulse of warmth slip free. You clamp your thighs harder, face burning.

Reid starts rambling about geographic decay rates. You stop listening. All you can focus on is the slow, steady throb between your legs and the way Hotch’s gaze keeps drifting to your lap like he’s cataloging every squirm.

Forty unending minutes later, the wheels finally touch down in Quantico. You stand too fast, and your knees nearly buckle. Hotch’s hand shoots out to steady your elbow, the perfect picture of a concerned boss... or partner.

You make it down the stairs on wobbly legs, every step making the mess in your panties shift and cling. You’re praying no one notices the way you’re walking like you just rode a horse for twelve hours straight.

Rossi falls into step beside Hotch as you head for the car park. He doesn’t even bother lowering his voice.

“Atta boy,” he mutters, clapping Hotch once on the shoulder.

Hotch doesn’t answer, but you catch the faint, wicked tilt of his lips before he slides on his sunglasses.

You flip Rossi off behind Hotch’s back.

Rossi just laughs knowingly and calls over his shoulder, “Feel better, kid.”

You’re going to kill them both.

Later.

Much, much later.

When you can walk again.

The case is over.

Three girls are alive, the unsub is being cuffed, and everyone’s ready to head home.

But Hotch is furious.

You can feel it before you see it–the heat of his gaze tracking you from across the crime scene like a laser sight. His body is still, his expression unreadable, but his eyes are sharp.

He waits until the others are distracted–until Morgan is dragging the unsub away and JJ is giving the girls space to breathe–and then:

“A word.” Not a suggestion. Not an option. Just your name, clipped and low.

He barely looks at you as he leads you away from the others, jaw clenched, pace tight with fury.

He turns to face you. Arms crossed. Shoulders stiff. “What the hell was that?"

You cross your arms to match his stance, refusing to be rattled. “I saw an opening. I took it.”

“You disobeyed a direct order. You approached the unsub without a vest, without backup–”

“He was targeting a specific victim type. I matched the profile. I knew he’d follow me.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t blink. “You got lucky.”

“I got results.”

He takes one sharp step forward. You don’t flinch–not even when his voice drops lower. “He had a knife. He could’ve killed you, he could've killed them.”

“But he didn’t.”

That silence that follows feels like a warning. You hold it–hold his stare–until he speaks again.

“You’re off rotation until further notice.”

“Are you serious?”

“Effective immediately.”

Your stomach flips–not from the punishment, but from the why behind it.

He’s not angry because you broke protocol. He’s angry because you forced his hand.

“Why does it piss you off more that I was right?”

That lands.

He doesn’t answer–just exhales through his nose and walks away, fast and rigid and fuming.

You’re halfway to the elevator when you hear it: “Agent. My office.”

You stop, turn. Hotch is at the top of the stairs. His voice is calm again. Controlled. But you recognize the tension in his shoulders. That little twitch in his jaw. That telltale grip on the railing.

You follow him without a word.

He holds the door for you. Doesn’t meet your eyes.

He closes it behind you with a quiet, deliberate click.

You stay standing. He doesn’t offer you a seat.

He stays standing, arms crossed tight over his chest like a barrier he can’t lower.

“Your decision today was reckless.”

You lean against the edge of the chair across from his desk. Don’t sit.

“I got the unsub in custody. The victims are safe.”

“You disobeyed orders. You endangered yourself, the team, and those girls.”

“And I was right,” you snap. “Why does that bother you so much?”

“It bothers me because it’s not the first time you’ve taken liberties in the field. You make impulsive decisions and expect them to pay off. That’s not judgment–it’s immaturity.”

“Wow.”

He presses forward. “You think this job is about instincts? About gut feelings? It's about patterns. Discipline. Control.”

That last word lands sharp–like he didn’t mean to say it.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Right. Because you’ve never followed a gut instinct in your life.”

He looks at you like he wants to bite something. “This isn’t about me.”

“No,” you say, voice rising. “It’s about the fact that you’re stubborn, and you can’t stand being wrong. Especially not by someone you didn’t hand-pick for this team.”

He says nothing.

You keep going.

“You’re hard on me because it’s easier to act like I’m reckless than admit I get under your skin.”

He opens his mouth–but you don’t let him.

“I see it, Hotch. I’ve seen it for months. The way you won’t look at me. The way you keep your distance, like being near me is going to burn. The way you grit your teeth every time I smile.”

You take a step forward, hands on his desk. His expression darkens, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me I'm wrong, Hotch.”

He clenches his jaw. His silence only angers you more.

“What is it? Do you not like me, or do you just not trust yourself around me?”

His jaw tightens.

Then–like something snaps–he turns away from you. Rough, fast, like he’s trying to outrun the pull.

But he doesn’t leave.

He closes the blinds. One by one.

You don’t move. You don’t speak.

When he locks the door, your pulse jumps.

He turns around–and you know. You know what’s about to happen.

“You have no idea what you’re playing with,” he says, voice low and shaking with restraint.

You lift your chin. “Then show me.”

He doesn’t answer.

Doesn’t have to.

The look in his eyes is answer enough–molten heat beneath a thin layer of self-control that’s rapidly disintegrating.

Then, without a word, he reaches up and yanks his tie loose.

The motion is sharp. Precise. Like it’s been a long time coming.

He slides the silk from his collar and tosses it onto the desk.

You swallow.

“You want to talk about discipline,” he says, stepping toward you slowly. “You’ve been testing mine since the day you joined this team.”

Another step.

“Showing off. Pushing limits. Smart mouth. Smarter eyes.”

You take a step back–not from fear, but because the desk is behind you and the way he’s walking feels like a hunt.

“You think I haven’t noticed you?” he says. “You think I didn’t see what you were doing today?”

He’s in front of you now, hands braced on the desk on either side of your hips, caging you in against the desk.

You can feel his breath. Feel his heat.

“You put yourself in danger because you knew it would get my attention.”

You smirk, despite your heart pounding in your chest. “I’d say it worked pretty fucking well.”

That does it.

He growls and spins you around, pressing your front to the desk with a force that sends papers scattering.

“You want attention?” he murmurs against your ear. “You’re about to get it.”

His body is flush against your back. One hand slides to your hip. The other presses to the small of your back, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“You broke protocol,” he says, fingers skimming under your waistband. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

He leans in closer, mouth brushing your ear.

“You’re getting punished for that.”

You gasp–not from fear. From how badly you want it.

He groans when he hears it.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice rough, even as he hooks his fingers into your waistband.

You don’t. You reach to your left, grab his tie off the desk, and press it into his hand.

“Make me behave, Agent Hotchner.”

Hotch takes the tie from your hand like it’s a weapon. His knuckles graze your spine as he steps back just enough to look at you bent over his desk.

“Stay still.”

His voice is low. Dangerous.

You brace your elbows against the desk as he pulls your pants and underwear down in one motion, exposing you to the cool air of the office, to him.

There’s a beat of silence behind you.

Then a rough exhale.

“Christ,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You smile. Just a little. You know exactly what you’re doing.

Then snap–the tie tightens around your wrists before you can process it. He loops it expertly, binds your hands in front of you against the desk. His fingers graze yours once before they leave again, and something about that ghost of a touch makes your breath hitch harder than the restraint itself.

“You don’t follow rules,” he murmurs, now behind you again. “Let’s see if you follow this one: don’t make a sound.”

You don’t get the chance to respond.

His hand comes down–sharp and clean–across the curve of your ass.

You gasp, bite your lip, but don’t speak.

Then, a second smack. And another.

The sting isn’t brutal. Not really. Not when his hand smooths over the spot right after, soothing, teasing.

But your skin is buzzing, and you’re wet–achingly, embarrassingly wet.

Then his fingers graze the back of your thigh, trail upward, pause at your slick center.

“Of course you’re wet.”

He sounds almost amused. Almost angry.

“All that backtalk,” he mutters, “and this is how you respond to punishment?”

He drags two fingers through your folds, slow and filthy, before pushing them inside–not gently. Not cruelly, either. Just hungry.

He curls his fingers just right–that firm pressure against your front wall–and your knees nearly buckle.

“Stay up,” he warns. “You don’t get to fall apart yet.”

You brace your forearms on the desk. Your hands are still bound–pinned between you and the wood. You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound.

Hotch straightens behind you. You hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, slow and deliberate, followed by the metallic click of it hitting the floor.

Then he leans down over your back, mouth at your ear.

“You put yourself at risk today,” he growls, his tip now sliding against your entrance. “So I’m going to remind you what it feels like… when someone else takes control.”

He slams into you in one sharp, brutal thrust.

You cry out, hands straining in the silk tie. The stretch is sudden–perfect–and you’re so full you swear you stop breathing.

“That’s it,” he grits out. “Take it.”

He sets a punishing rhythm–hips snapping against yours, fingers digging into your waist to keep you from squirming. The sound of skin meeting skin is obscene in the quiet office, echoing off the walls like something forbidden.

You moan. You can’t help it. Your body is beyond you now.

“What did I say about noise?” he growls, slowing just enough to grind his hips into you. The pressure makes your thighs shake.

“Do I need to gag you with my tie too?”

The words make you clench hard around him, and he groans–loud and low.

“Fuck. You like that, don’t you?”

You nod, trembling.

“Of course you do.”

He pulls out–and for a terrifying second you think he’s going to leave you like this–but then he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright, body flush against yours.

You feel the warmth of his breath on your shoulder.

“You think I haven’t thought about this?” he rasps. “Pictured you like this? Bent over my desk, begging for me to fuck the attitude out of you?”

He thrusts back in, deeper this time, making you cry out into the air. His other hand snakes around your waist, then between your legs. He starts rubbing tight circles over your clit, fingers slick with your arousal.

Your whole body arches. Your tied hands scrabble uselessly against the desk.

“Come for me,” he commands. “I want to feel how bad you need it.”

You don’t even get a full breath in before your orgasm crashes into you–fast and blinding. You moan his name like a prayer and he groans in response, holding you tight as your walls spasm around him.

You barely come down before he starts moving again–faster, harder–chasing his own release.

He presses you back down over the desk, his chest against your back, lips at your ear.

“You were right,” he pants. “I don’t trust myself around you.”

Another thrust. Your eyes roll back.

“And I don’t care anymore.”

With a low, guttural sound, he finally comes deep inside you, pulsing hard, fingers tightening on your waist.

The office goes quiet.

His breathing is ragged in your ear. Your body is shaking, boneless against the desk, his weight still warm behind you.

Neither of you speak for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he eases out of you, his touch soft now as he fixes your clothes, unties your wrists, smooths your hair back from your face.

And finally, he turns you around and kisses you.

Not like before.

This kiss is slow, careful, almost gentle.

His thumb brushes your jaw. His forehead rests against yours.

“This doesn’t leave this room.”

Your lips quirk. “Then we might need to start spending a lot more time in your office.”

He huffs–not quite a laugh, but close. There’s a softness in his eyes now, threaded with something darker.

Possessiveness. Want.

“Next time you disobey me,” he says, “you won’t be able to walk after.”

You grin.

You’re already planning on it.

"Shut up. Just be quiet. You had your fun and now it's time for me to have mine. I let you have control and you use it just to torture me? It's my turn."

Your eyes widen. You're a little surprised but it excites you to see him like this. He's acting like he's never teases you relentlessly the way you were just doing to him.

Without warning, Aaron pushes his cock into you and bottoms out, growling at the feeling of your wet cunt enveloping him completely. He's finally getting what he so badly needed. Your eyes have widened considerably more at the sudden intrusion and you have gasped even louder this time.

Aaron brings his hips back, pulling his dick almost all the way out, and then he snaps them back into yours. He has you caged beneath him and he's holding your wrists with only one of his now, his other is finding home around your throat.

"You always want to be such a little tease when I let you have the slightest bit of control."

"I-it's just f-for fun, daddy. Because you do it to me too." He likes hearing you call him that. It's showing him that you're slipping into your submissive role now and that is right where he wants you to be.

"Well maybe this will teach you to have fun some other way. Because I won't let you get away with that anymore."

"But- daddy, you did it to me first!"

"And daddy is the one in charge. So he gets to do what he sees fit. Isn't that right? And I seem to remember that most of the times I've teased you like that were after you had been bad, hmm?" He tightens his hand around your throat just slightly. He's showing that he has the control now.

His hips are still moving, but they're going slower during the conversation. He watches you fold after he points out your bad behaviour that had initially led to him punishing you with edging and he knows that he has won the argument. He smirks.

"Good, my little brat is finally getting it. Isn't she? Are you finally learning the rules?"

A harder thrust comes this time and you yelp in surprise and nod your head quickly.

"Yes, I have. I have, daddy. P-promise." You struggle a little, his grip making is a bit harder to speak.

Aaron finally speeds up and starts moving his hips faster, still going harder too. He is grunting right into your ear and the sound makes your core squeeze him tight which elicits a groan from him.

He pulls back and pushes your legs up higher, fucking you harder into the mattress now. Your hands are scrambling to find purchase somewhere as he starts going even harder. He's moving you up the bed a little more with each thrust.

"Such a little slut for me, taking me so deep. Letting me use you whenever I want." He mutters between grunts and groans. His dick is hitting that special spot that has your eyes rolling back in your head and high-pitched moans falling from your lips.

"God, you sound so fucking pathetic, princess. Already fucked dumb. Such a little slut for my cock, aren't you?" You nod your head the best you can and Aaron takes one of his hands to press down on your lower abdomen. It makes you feral whenever he does that.

"A-ah!"

He chuckles at your noises and he presses deep and holds still. He watches you. He keeps his eyes on your face and he watches as you become frustrated from the lack of movement. He feels you beginning to squirm, desperate for more. Your hips are attempting to buck up against his, but his are pressed so firmly into yours that you can hardly move them.

"D-daddy!" You whine and look up at him.

Another dark chuckle escapes him and he pulls out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward into yours even harder now.

"So fucking pathetic." He grumbles into your ear and grabs your hair, pulling on it a little bit. It makes you whimper and he continues to destroy you with his throbbing cock. He grunts as he fills you over and over. His other hand moves down between you and he rubs your clit.

"Oh! Oh! Yes yes, just like that!" You're about to cum and then he pulls his hand away. "No! No, I was so close!"

He grabs your jaw now and forces you to meet his eyes.

"Only good girls get to cum. And you haven't been very good, have you?" His voice is deep and dark. He's stopped all of his movements again.

"N-no, daddy. I haven't been a good girl."

"That's right. You've been a brat, haven't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I've been a brat."

"A pathetic one too, hmm? Isn't that right?"

You nod and look up at him with big sad eyes.

"Use your words. Tell me how much of a pathetic little brat you are."

"I've been a pathetic brat, daddy. 'm sorry. I'll be a good girl for you."

"You better be."

He is still holding your jaw and he forces you to open your mouth. He spits into it and closes it for you.

"Swallow. Swallow like the dirty slut you are for me."

You do and you clench around him at the same time.

"That's a good girl."

With that, he starts fucking you again and he rubs your bundle of nerves once more, he pushes you over the edge and he doesn't stop. He just goes on like this until you're begging him to stop. You're overstimulated and so sensitive, but he forces you into another orgasm and a little spurt of wetness comes out of you.

Aaron smirks and finally lets up. You're a panting mess beneath him. He allows you to come down from the intense high and then he starts to help you move onto your stomach once you're slightly more coherent.

"Thank you.... thank you, daddy. Thank you so much." You babble and he lines up with your entrance again, sliding in easily and making you gasp one more time.

You stood in front of his door, and every few minutes, you raised your fist to knock but lost your resolve just when your knuckles were about to make contact with sturdy wood. 

You sighed and let your head fall, clenching your jaw long enough to build up the courage to straighten your spine and try again. 

But each time you debated knocking, you realized that you didn’t want to bother him with silly platitudes. 

Feuds between members of a friend group were what you would consider boring stuff, and surely Aaron wouldn’t want to be reminded that you were immature enough to be affected by such trivial things.  

However, he was all you had, and what you would give to see a friendly face right about now.  

But what if your friends were right? What if Aaron pitied you?

And what if everything they said about you was true?

You could still see yourself so clearly at Judith’s place. It was as if you had had an out-of-body experience as you had picked up her phone at her request, but Judith had forgotten one very important detail when she asked you to help her out. You could still see yourself scrolling through a group chat, one you weren’t a part of, one which included every one of your so-called friends except you. You weren’t even snooping. They were just texting each other nasty things about you while you were in the room, and one of them had sent a message right as you had picked up Judith’s phone. 

It called you “stupid”, but Judith never used a passcode to lock her phone, so really, who was stupid?

Your thumb had hovered over the notification, but the choice was simple. You needed to know whether it was happening again. 

You had seen a chat full of messages about you, outlining every single flaw and quirk you didn’t like about yourself, discussed at length. They were mocking and vile, with the more recent messages talking about Aaron and your relationship with him. 

You had mentioned in passing that you were seeing Aaron just last week, and you had shown them a picture, so incredibly proud to be a part of his life when he was everything you could have ever dreamed of. You were so chuffed to show them your man then, so delighted with your relationship that you felt compelled to share it with your friends, thinking they’d be happy for you. 

But of course, that was until you saw these messages, each one more hurtful than the last.

You had thought they were your friends, but as usual, you had been kidding yourself into thinking people would ever want to be your friend. 

It was always the same. You gaslighted yourself into thinking you were worth having friends, that you deserved company, that you deserved people to share things with. 

But it was clear now. 

Standing in front of Aaron’s door, unable and unwilling to knock, it was clear. Clearer than it had ever been. 

You were the black sheep. The runt. The vermin. 

People always managed to let you know just that, so why were you still ignoring them when they were being so loud?

Truth was, you didn’t know why you bothered to try and make friends when every last time you had tried, it had ended with you crying over people who would not bat an eye that they had hurt you. 

Your “friends” were cruel, and they had been cruel for a while.

You always wondered what you did when this happened, you wondered what you ever did to deserve this again. You wondered what you did to drive them away, what kind of monster you had to be that was so despicable and ugly that they’d do this. 

But maybe, just maybe, you had to stop wondering. 

Maybe you were the problem. 

Maybe you had been all along. 

It was the only reasonable explanation, wasn’t it?

You were the common denominator, so you had to be the problem. 

You faced Aaron’s door again, and you wanted to curl into a fetal position on his doorstep. Your legs were shaky at best, and you couldn’t figure out what you should do, but your legs wouldn’t carry you out of his building right now, even if you tried. Maybe you could sit for a few minutes before you left.

You knew it was probably the right thing to do. Leaving to spare yourself wouldn’t be the worst idea considering. 

If your friends were right, if Aaron did pity you, how would you ever survive knowing that?

Tears were staining your cheeks at the thought, and as you tried to catch your breath, your sobs kept getting caught in your throat. You put a hand over your mouth and nose to keep quiet, trying not to gasp as you started to lack oxygen.

Choking to death wasn’t how you wanted to go, it took too long and your lungs were already burning. But maybe you didn’t deserve a quick or clean way out. Maybe this was how you should go. Maybe this was exactly what you deserved.

Yet, for all your trying, air inflated your lungs over and over again. It was fair. You couldn’t do this on Aaron’s doorstep.  

What if in a few minutes, when your legs could carry you out of here, you just drove back to your place, and somewhere along the way, you wrapped your car around a telephone pole?

Would people even miss you?

If you drove into a ditch at full speed, would anyone even care?

You thought about proving everyone right. Every single person who had ever said something, well, perhaps they were correct. Maybe you were the piece of shit everyone said you were. It was the one thing everyone you had ever known had unanimously agreed on. 

Just as you thought walking out of here was your best option, his concerned frown appeared at the back of your mind. Right as you were about to drown in your thoughts, right as you were about to succumb to them, there he was.  

His gentle voice reminded you, “Rule number 2,” over and over again in your head. 

You choked on a violent sob, wiping your eyes to clear your vision. The fog in your head was ever present, but you had promised. You had signed that contract. 

With the last ounce of determination you had left, you raised your fist to knock on his door, and you forced yourself to go through with it.  

Your knuckles rasped on his door, and less than a minute after, you were being pulled inside by two hands you had come to love. 

Your slumped shoulders were enough to stop him from pouncing on you the way he often did when you came in at this hour, and you walked towards the huge windows in his living room, your chin trembling as you tried to keep your emotions under control. 

The rain pelted relentlessly against the windows of his apartment, mirroring the storm brewing inside your head.

He joined you, a mask of concern and then sadness adorning his eyes. You were unable to maintain eye contact any longer, every word you’d ever known stuck in your throat as you realized he had probably noticed you had been crying, as you tried to blink back more tears. 

You had been reduced to a tangled mess of emotions by people you once adored.  

You flinched when he reached for you, immediately rubbing your nape to try and self-soothe. You wanted comfort, and you wanted him to provide it. But tonight, you had finally learned your lesson. You couldn’t rely on people, and you were done believing otherwise. 

You were just here to honor the rules. You had to remember that. 

You recoiled as a loud clap of thunder deafened you, your knees buckling right as his arms encircled and caught you. 

Damn him for knowing how much this scared you. 

You failed to swallow back a sob, his embrace too warm and comforting for you to hide.  

You didn’t deserve him, or any of this. 

Maybe he did pity you. But did you even deserve pity?

“I’m not going to pry it out of you. You tell me when you’re ready. But I’m here for you, sweetheart,” he gently whispered. “I just need to know you’re okay.”

Even though you weren’t okay, you couldn’t move away any more than you could stop breathing out of sheer will. 

You wrapped your arms around him before your mind could convince you to make a run for it, burying your face into his chest and breathing him in, finding his scent as soothing as usual. You weren’t okay, but he always made things more bearable. Acceptable, even. 

What if this was all a game to him? What if it was pity?

Did you even care? 

Even if it was, you couldn’t let go. And truthfully, you didn’t care. 

You would be glad it had happened at all once it was over, once he was done. 

“I’m fine,” you lied. 

He leaned back to look into your eyes then, and with his brow furrowed, he held your gaze. He waited a few seconds, his frown deepening as he seemed to gather you wouldn’t correct yourself.

“What is rule number 4?” he reprimanded. 

Shit. 

“Always tell the truth,” you mumbled.

“And you telling me you’re fine when you’re clearly not is a flagrant violation of one of our rules. Do you really want to break our rules, princess?” he said evenly.

You shook your head, averting your gaze. “No, Daddy.”

He lifted your chin with his fingers, his expression softening as your eyes met his. “Good girl.” He paused, cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with his calloused thumb. “Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong or do you need more time?”

You wanted to tell him. If nothing but to respect and honor the rules. But you needed to be able to form a coherent thought before you explained what had happened. 

“May I shower first? I need to clear my head.”

Aaron didn’t seem to debate it, and now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure he had ever denied you anything. He planted a soft kiss on your forehead, his soft lips lingering on your skin.  

“How about a warm bath instead?” he suggested.

A bath did sound nice. 

“Yes. Thank you,” you sniffled.

He cradled your face, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek, his touch more delicate than you’d ever felt it, and he offered you a small smile. “Oh, princess… It’s my privilege to take care of you.”

You chose not to dwell on what he meant, and you managed a small smile back. 

Aaron brought you into his bathroom, opening the drawer where all your things were. 

He took out your charcoal mask tube and a washcloth, picking you up to sit you down on the counter next to the sink. 

You had learned not to ask questions when he decided to do things for you. You just willingly went along with whatever he wanted, blindly trusting him because you knew deep in your gut that he would take care of you.

He lathered some face soap he had gotten for you into his hands, applying it to your face gently. It smelled expensive, a combination of cashmere, aloe and sea salt appeasing your senses. 

Aaron really had a knack for giving you space without giving you the impression that you were alone. 

He started washing the soap away with the washcloth, and it centered you to feel cared for in this way. You shut your eyes, but Aaron instantly tutted. 

“Color?” he queried.

“Green.”

The color system was effective for a variety of purposes, and it worked particularly well for setting boundaries in these kinds of relationships. And Aaron frequently asked. Whatever activity it was you two were engaging in, he always checked with you, which you saw as a sign of respect. 

Pity or not, he respected you. 

Once he was done cleaning your face, you felt a little reinvigorated. Even if your mind was still deafeningly overloaded, even if you were relentlessly questioning your self-worth, you breathed a little easier in his company. You always did. 

Aaron motioned for you to let your head fall forward so he could tie your hair up, and you followed his lead. He regularly did this for you, and his touch was always gentle. You trusted him with your sensitive roots because he only tugged on your hair when you were in bed, and even then, he was careful not to hurt you.  

Aaron rubbed the mask onto your face, applying it evenly on your skin. His fingers lingered along your jawline, his motions delicate as he applied the mask on your nose, forehead, and cheeks. 

His touch carried a tenderness you’d never expected from him, and you didn’t want to wonder what this meant. 

He was focused, and you knew he was probably doing a better job of applying it than you, after all, Aaron did everything with the utmost precision. 

Once your face was coated in charcoal and Aaron was washing his hands, you thought about setting a timer on your phone for 30 minutes. It was the time it took for it to dry and let you peel it off without pain. 

But as you got to your feet, Aaron put a timer for that exact duration on his phone. 

Maybe he did care, somewhere deep down. 

No one had ever bothered to learn your skincare routine before him. No one had ever bought you soap either. 

He let the bath fill with hot water, pouring some of your favorite bubble bath into it, and right as you expected him to leave the bathroom, he moved towards you, towering over you. He held your waist before he toyed with the hem of your shirt, his eyes darting between yours as his thumbs stroked your skin. 

“Color?” he breathed.

“Green,” you answered.

Aaron took your clothes off, his eyes never faltering from your face, and somehow, you felt more naked precisely because he wasn’t looking anywhere else. 

He discarded his own clothes, fetching a clean washcloth before getting in the bath and signaling for you to join him. 

You knew better than to argue or question his motives. You trusted him, and it was easy to follow him in and sit in front of him in the bath if it allowed you not to think for a little while. 

He pulled you back, flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your middle as a soft kiss landed on your shoulder. His lips traced the crook of your neck up to your cheek and down again, and if your body responded with goosebumps, neither of you commented on it. 

He planted wet kisses on your shoulders, yet you knew there was no sexual intent behind them. Aaron was only trying to comfort you, and it showed. 

He ran the washcloth across your shoulders, the warm water working its magic and cocooning you in its embrace. Aaron managed to anchor you in the storm that still raged inside your head, and you had to give it to him, the one within your heart had been quelled. 

You could tell him. 

If he was indeed pitying you, he wouldn’t be doing any of this. 

Right?

You chose to sit in silence with him in the bath, letting him tenderly wash you, letting him peel the dry mask off right before he offered you the washcloth to dab at the rest. 

He proffered a bottle of serum when you were done, and you hadn’t even noticed he had put it next to the bath. 

Aaron knew your skincare routine, he knew which products you used and in what order you applied them. 

This was not pity.

It was something else.

And whatever it was, it made you brave. 

You finished applying the serum onto your face, and Aaron took the bottle back from you, putting it away. 

You knew you were ready. You knew you could face him and do this. 

You turned around, water sploshing a little as you faced him. He pushed a stray hair out of your face, placing it behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your cheek softly.  

“I’m here for you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

You nodded because in less than an hour, he had managed to help you better than you knew how to help yourself. 

You breathed in and out, clasping your hands together before you straightened your spine. 

“I found this group chat because Judith asked me to get her her phone,” you started.

Aaron instantly sighed. “I never liked them.”

He had never even met them and–

“You don’t even–” know them.

He cupped your cheek, his face serious and stern. “Doesn’t matter. You’re going to get me these girls’ phone numbers, okay?”

He did care. You didn’t know why you had doubted it. 

You looked down, trying to pick at your nails. “I sent myself a few screenshots of the conversation. I couldn’t…”

Aaron stopped you from ruining your nails, his hands firmly enveloping yours. 

“Where’s your phone?” he almost growled.

“But–” you stammered. 

His hands tightened around yours, his teeth audibly gritting. “No. I need to know what they said so I can fix this.”

This?

Not fix you. But fix this?

“My back pocket–”

Aaron got out of the bath before you could even comprehend what was happening, and even if he was putting water everywhere, he didn’t seem to care.

Your phone looked infinitely too small in his large hands as he entered your passcode, his brow furrowing deeper the more he read the messages you had saved. The vein in his neck throbbed, his jaw was clenched and you could feel his anger filling the room.

You didn’t know why you had saved them when they so effortlessly swam around your head right now.  

You could picture all of them perfectly as Aaron made his way through them.

Amelia: She’s so fucking stupid.  Lou: Fuck, she texted me. I hate talking to her. Save me, plz. Amy: She texted me, too. Ugh.. So annoying. Judith: Guys find us something to do because she wants to go out to brunch with us. Lou: Who invited her to my place? This is sick, you guys. I’ll have to hire professional cleaners because of you. Amy: Did you see what she was wearing today? Judith: No one tell her when the graduation photos will be taken.  Amelia: Fuck. She texted me. HELP Lou: Is she actually dating that guy? I don’t buy it. Judith: That man is not real. She’s crazy. Ever noticed? Amy: You guys, he’s fucking real. Saw them shopping together. Lou: Wait, so she’s not lying? Amelia: He’s just with her because she’s still tight. Judith: Probably fucks her doggy style so he doesn’t have to see her face. Lou: He deserves so much better. Amy: It’s just pity. Clearly.

You wiped your eyes as the messages echoed around in your head. You watched Aaron seethe silently, and you chose to stare at the bathwater to focus on anything but his face if he did pity you after this. 

You heard cracking glass before you heard him exhale loudly. 

You looked up, your phone completely crushed into his left hand. 

“Aaron?” you asked, your voice trembling. 

He met your gaze, his eyes wet and troubled. “I’ll get you another one. I’m sorry.”

You saw his left hand bleeding onto the ground, and you swiftly got out of the bath, prying the broken phone out of his hands. 

You knew where the first-aid kit was, and you brought him along where the cupboards were. He leaned backward on the counter as you got it out, his expression totally unreadable.

He winced when you reached for his hand, but he didn’t say a word as you cleaned the wound with antiseptic wipes. You were grateful that he wouldn’t need stitches. The cut was bleeding a lot but it was mostly superficial. 

You applied some antibiotic ointment on the gash, and you bandaged him up. You held his hand gently, and you put it on top of your heart once the dressing was properly in place. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Before you could think about how to apologize, he crashed his lips onto yours, enveloping your mouth into a searing kiss. He was angry, his breathing loud as his chest heaved against yours, but he chose to kiss you like he so often did, the way which made you stop wondering whether he truly liked you.

You kissed and held each other for a while, until you were both dry instead of dripping wet, and Aaron kissed your crown, sighing loudly.

“Nothing they said is true. Nothing. You know that, right?”

“Aaron–”

Aaron brought you towards his bedroom before you could talk about it some more, before you could process it further.

He started kissing you again, backing you up until you were horizontal in his bed. He hovered above you, his kisses hungry and passionate.

You felt his dick harden the more you kissed, and you tried to clench your legs together to relieve the throbbing that you started to feel as you thought about him silencing your thoughts the way only he knew how. 

You felt wetness gather and pool in your cunt the more his tongue grazed yours, the more you felt his heavy erection rub against your thigh. 

He stopped his motions, pinning your hands together above your head. “Now, princess, you broke a few rules today. We need to see to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

Right. Of course. 

“I understand, Daddy.”

“But we’re not going to do that right now,” he clarified, his voice hoarse but gentle. 

“We’re not?” you asked, confused. 

You loved rules, and you loved your contract because you knew what to expect. 

There were no surprises. 

Well, almost no surprises.

“No. Tonight, it’s just you and me, and I’ll show you how wrong they were. You– You’re everything. You’re my… You’re perfect, angel. And I want you to know it for a fact. I want to show you. Will you let me?”

He let go of your hands, grasping one and bringing it towards the middle of his chest. 

His hand was intertwined with yours, clasped on top of his thundering heart. 

“But–” you stuttered. 

“No buts. You broke a few rules. We’ll get to it later. Now– Now just let me show you. Please,” he pleaded. 

You had never heard him sound so desperate. But you knew the implications of what he was asking. 

Was he doing it because he wanted to? What about the contract and everything you had both agreed on months prior?

“We don’t–” do this.

We don’t do soft. We don’t do feelings.

He pressed his lips together, his expression softening. “Maybe we didn’t. But that’s going to change, sweet girl. I want you to feel like you can rely on me. And not just in bed. It breaks my heart that you didn’t… I’m not just your– I’m your boyfriend. I’m your person. Contract or not, I love you… I truly do. I want you to know– No– I need you to know how much you mean to me,” he explained, his voice laced with sincerity.

Wait. Love?

“Daddy…”

He cupped your cheek, resting some of his weight on top of you. “No, sweet girl. It’s “Aaron” right now.”

You had never called him “Aaron” in bed. How to address him during sex was one of the first rules.

“Aaron… I–”

He kissed you, effectively shutting you up. He kissed you until you panted, until the only thing you wanted was his mouth on yours.

Aaron stopped again, his lips planting kisses on your jaw before he gazed into your eyes again. “I don’t care about any stupid contract if you’re not the one signing it, sweetheart. I love this lifestyle because you’re in it, because we share it… But I love vanilla sex just as much, and I didn’t put it in the contract, but that’s what we’re going to do. In fact, we’re going to forget about this contract for a little while because you are more than what it says. You’re more than a piece of paper. And I’m so sorry if you ever thought you weren’t… You’re my baby. You’re my love. And now, we’re going to go slow and enjoy some tenderness because we love one another. Right?”

He looked insecure, almost as if he was terrified that you wouldn’t jump if he said “jump”.

You cradled his face with a soft smile, and the way he had just opened his heart to you made you love him even more.

“Aaron, I love you. I have for a while. I just don’t want you to be bored. I am terrified that you’ll–”

He chuckled, the sound startling you considering the circumstances. “I want all of you. And I want slow and sweet just as much as I want rough and dirty. We might need new rules after this, maybe even a new contract, or maybe we don’t need any of those things… but I would never be bored with you. Even if we never fucked again, I would never be bored with you. Never,” he insisted.

You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes instantly fluttering shut. 

“What do you want?”

He shook his head no. “Tonight, you get to decide, sweet girl.”

There was only one thing you wanted, and it was to see him as he breached you, to see his face as he fucked you, to see his features contort with pleasure as he buried his seed inside you.

“Missionary? We’ve never–”

He smiled fully, his dimples on display. “You got it. How shall we prep you?” he asked with a smirk.

You grabbed him before he could go down on you.

“No. Just– Please just take me. Let’s not… I need to feel you. I need you to stretch me. I want you to be the only thing I can feel and the only thing I can think about.”

He nodded, looking into your eyes and searching them for any sign of uncertainty.

He clearly didn’t find any. 

He proffered his hand to you. “Spit.”

Whether you decided or not, Aaron remained in control. And you didn’t mind. 

You did as you were told, spitting into his hand. 

He immediately grabbed himself, wetting his dick with your spit before he gathered the slick at your entrance and coated himself with it. 

“Look at me, sweet girl,” he croaked. 

You obliged him, feeling him align his dick with your entrance. 

“Good girl,” he drawled.

His praises always made you blush, and you felt your cheeks heat up within seconds. 

The head of his cock slowly breached you, and Aaron grabbed your thigh firmly as he began to sink in, his fingers biting your skin and surely about to leave beautiful bruises in their wake. 

He let you breathe through it, the burn painful but refreshing. 

Once he was fully sheathed, you put your other leg around his waist, allowing him a bit deeper.

He grabbed the pillow next to your head and put it under your hips to help with the angle. His grip on your thigh was still firm, but he had managed to make it pleasurable. He always did.

“Color?” he grunted.

“Green.”

You arched your back, clenching around him voluntarily to show him how ready you were. 

He hummed as you dragged your fingers over his back, and his breath hitched when you scratched him. “Tell me when to move.”

You reached for the drawer of the nightstand, grabbing the massage wand you often used together before you put it between your bodies, hopeful it would help with the stretch and discomfort of his girth. 

It didn’t take long for it to feel good with the vibration, and Aaron bit his lips as if he was trying to refrain from moving.

“Move, Aaron,” you whimpered. 

The more he moved in and out of you, the more the massage wand felt wonderful. The vibration was as delicious for him as it was for you, and you knew it because you were both moaning in sync. 

“Faster, please.”

Aaron shook his head. “Oh, no, sweet girl. I am taking it slow.”

He upped the speed on the massage wand, his thrusts slow but deep, hitting your g-spot without fail.

His groans filled the room, echoing against your skin. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting your shoulder as he fucked you slowly. 

You moaned, the mix of pleasure and pain absolutely magnificent.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, his pace faltering as his hips stilled, and when you felt his warm breath on your skin as he sank his teeth into your shoulder once more, you whined, unable to keep a lid on it any longer.

You bit his shoulder in return as your orgasm came over you in waves, pleasure rocking you to your core as you heard him whimper as he shot up inside you, the sound so small and delicate you weren’t sure you hadn’t imagined it. 

He milked his orgasm into your pussy, slowly shoving his hips into you until you couldn’t feel him paint your inner walls anymore. 

The massage wand became too much, but Aaron just allowed you to slow it instead of removing it. 

“Not done yet,” he warned.

You were oversensitive, but Aaron knew your body better than you did most of the time. He was always keeping you on that fine line between pleasure and pain, but you trusted him as he grabbed it and kept it firmly in place.

“Color?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Green,” you moaned.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed.

He was still hard, his dick still throbbing inside you. Even if he was spent, it was clear he wasn’t stopping. 

He kept at it, his thrusts sloppy and loud, the squelching sounds of your juices mixing together the only thing you could focus on. 

Before you knew it, he was coaxing another slow orgasm out of you, your legs trembling violently as another wave of overwhelming pleasure had you screaming his name into the room.

You mewled when he didn’t pull out or remove the wand, his dick still nestled inside your pussy. You felt him throb as you squirmed and thrashed under him, as you whimpered his name and a string of expletives or pleads. 

“One more,” he growled.

Aaron removed the massage wand, his right hand finding its way to your clit. You were pinned under him, the crinkling around his eyes as he smiled too endearing to care whether you could actually come another time. 

He flicked your clit with his fingers adeptly, his touch making you purr as he hissed, the shudders overtaking your body when he didn’t relent.

You felt the coil in your stomach again, and this time, it ripped so violently that you closed your eyes, your body tense with pleasure as his fingers rubbed at your clit with more force. 

“You’re soaking me. You’re doing so good.”

You moaned, unable to say anything. You felt tears prickle at your eyes, but your head was blissfully empty. 

Aaron still didn’t relent, his fingers pinching your clit as you tried to breathe through the intense pleasure he was determined to provide you. 

You were scratching his back thoroughly as he worked, and you vowed to care for his back later, at least before you allowed him to put a shirt back on. 

His lips devoured your whines, his grunts reverberating around your mouth as he flicked and pinched your clit, his hips driving his seed deeper into you. His hard tip grazed your g-spot right as he rolled your clit between his thumb and index, and you felt an unexpected spurt of wetness pool out of you as your cunt fluttered around him, effectively drenching him. 

You would feel self-conscious under normal circumstances, but to be fair, it was his fault, and your body was totally unresponsive as you gasped like a fish out of water. 

You heard him groan and exhale right as you felt his dick twitch and shoot up inside you. 

It was the first time he had managed this twice in such a short amount of time, and if you weren’t totally spent, you would have come again at the thought of him coming twice. 

He let his weight fall on top of you entirely, and you stroked his back soothingly, knowing he was probably as sensitive and exhausted as you were as you felt his sweaty forehead in the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Aaron.”

He hummed contentedly as you kissed his temple, his hold on you tightening.

“I love you so much, sweetheart,” he muttered groggily. 

He stayed put until he softened enough to pull out without hurting you, and he went to grab a wet flannel as he often did after sex. 

You waited for him to come back, and truthfully, you had no other choice because you didn’t trust your legs to be functioning legs right now.

He got on his stomach between your legs, surely about to clean you up as usual when his fingers gathered his cum and yours, shoving it back inside you without warning. 

“Fuck– Aaron–” you whimpered.

He purred, grinding his hips into the mattress. You knew he didn’t have another one in him, at least for now, but this had aroused him enough to try and relieve some pressure, and that was undoubtedly the hottest thing you had ever seen.

He dragged his fingers where you knew there were copious amounts of juices, and he slowly put the substances back inside you. 

He smiled more widely the more you whined, your mixed pleasures finding their way back inside you, right where they belonged. 

“Do you think if I put a baby in you, they’ll realize how much I love you?” he pondered. 

Surely, you had not heard him correctly. You met his gaze, finding him serious yet affectionate. 

You were so sensitive, and with everything that had happened, everything that had been said, everything just felt so right as he apparently suggested a future with him you had only dreamed of.  

You were overwhelmed by his fingers, by what they meant, by what he was saying without actually saying it.

He arched his fingers inside you, and while it was too much, you clenched around his digits, wanting nothing more than to keep him close.

“Mmffhm—”

He pulled his fingers out and smirked, kissing your inner legs gently before he started wiping you clean, his touch tender as his lips lingered on your skin.

He kissed his way up, discarding the soiled flannel. “Rest, my sweet girl. I’ll get you some water.”

You nodded. 

You couldn’t think or talk, let alone move. 

He came back with a glass of water, and he waited for you to sit up and drink the entire glass before he joined you in bed again.

He sat in front of you, and you traced the purple bruise forming on his shoulder from when you bit him earlier.

He touched your cheek delicately, and you looked away.

“Are you shy, sweetheart?” he teased.

You nodded meekly.

Aaron grabbed your jaw, smiling at you. “Why though? Weren’t you the one who marked Daddy?” He smiled, tracing your lips with his thumb. “I belong to you just as much as you belong to me, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “You’re mine,” you declared semi-confidently.

You saw his dick twitch in interest, but he remained soft.  

“Fuck, yes,” he hissed.

You knew he had liked that. As much as you liked hearing it from him, it was nice to voice it, too.

He told you to go pee so he could change the sheets, and you came back, finding him sitting with his bruised hand in his lap. 

Aaron noticed you were back before you could comment on it, and he made you lie down, kissing your forehead before he got up. “Sleep. I’ll be right there.”

You would wait for him to come back before you would even consider falling asleep. You always did.

You heard him pick up his phone and dial as he exited the room.

“Garcia, I need you to do something for me, no questions asked,” you heard him say, albeit his voice was muffled through the walls. 

A short pause, clearly waiting for her to answer him.

“I’ll give you a few names and numbers, you make sure these people don’t have a working cellphone for a few weeks. Have them blacklisted with mobile carriers for a little while. Just do your thing,” he added.

He proceeded to name your so-called friends one after the other.

“Thank you, Penelope.”

He hung up and entered the room again, immediately spooning you as he got into bed.

“Thank you,” you muttered, betraying the fact that you weren’t sleeping.

You turned around in his embrace, finding his gaze soft as he looked and held you. 

“Never doubt how much I love you, angel.” He kissed your forehead, his smile evident as his lips lingered there. “Now… I thought you were completely worn out. We might have to go for another round to make sure you get a good night’s rest.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. 

He didn’t mean that, did he?

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection and lust. 

“Aaron… I can’t–”

He got on top of you, starting to kiss his way down your neck and expertly shutting you up. “I think you can, sweet girl,” he cooed, planting soft kisses on your jaw, on the column of your throat, next to your ears, and just about everywhere he knew you loved. 

“Aaron–”

He had you writhing, seeking more of his soft lips, your hand weaving its way into his hair. He moaned, the warmth of his breath delicious on your skin. 

He tutted as if to shake himself awake, the veil of pleasure you could provide him not about to cloud his judgement, apparently. He pinned your arms above your head, holding onto them in one hand while his other hand trailed down the side of your body, his fingertips ghosting over your skin with featherlight touches before his hand went back up and ended up wrapped gently around your throat. 

“Color?” he breathed.

“Green.”

Aaron’s touch was still delicate, even if he was slipping back into his usual persona. His eyes were dark, dazed with lust and affection. “Now, be my good girl, and let Daddy work.”

You nodded eagerly and smiled, a moan escaping your throat right as you realized that your mind was empty and silent at last.   ------------------------ taglist:

The week had been long, as the whole team returned home from a case late last night, leaving everyone exhausted. The case took four whole days, and a very limited amount of sleep which for sure isn’t a good combo.

What made things even more frustrating was the fact that you have barely seen your boyfriend all week. He’s been buried at work and juggling a million things at once, as he always does. He makes it look almost easy, if you didn’t know any better. The relationship is a rather new, but open one to the team. The both of you do your best to keep it out of work, especially during a case. Professionalism is important to the both of you.

But you had gotten used to sharing a room with him even during cases, whenever you’re out of town. It feels amazing to go to sleep next to him, being held by him. Not to mention when you both need to relieve some stress. But this week, you’ve barely gotten a kiss from him. He’s been so stressed and tense all week and you’re more than willing to help him relax.

You miss him. You miss being close to him and need him. As always, he looks incredible in his well tailored suits and expensive ties and watches. You love him for way more than just his exterior, of course, but in this state of need, his extremely handsome features keep getting your attention. Plus, seeing him talking with senators and directors and whoever, fitting in perfectly with the ‘big players’ made the man even more attractive in your eyes.

The clock strikes two as the concentration is starting to break and everyone’s getting tired. A quiet shatter took place and you joined in, but only half mindedly. You keep your eyes on your boss’ closed curtains. You’re not sure what the others are talking around you, all you can think about is your boyfriend having a serious conversation with the director inside of his office, stern and professional in his gorgeous suit. Sitting at his desk, looking so authoritative and just gorgeous. His big hands on his desk, head slightly tilted as he does when he listens carefully. You find it adorable, especially as he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

Oh his hands. Oh the things you would rather see his hands doing right now. Maybe feel you under the tight skirt you put on today, just for him. Or around your throat while he whispers his dirty words to you. How he’d manhandle you, pin you to the wall and have his way on you, get his stress out on you in the most pleasurable way.

“What do you think (Y/N)?” you hear Jennifer ask, but the sentence doesn’t register in your brain any more than that. The blond looks at you with an amused impression on her face. She takes a look at the direction of your eyes, and chuckles as she realizes you’re looking at their boss’ office intensely. “Do I even want to know what’s in your brain right now?” she tries to ask again, still not getting a response from you.

Emily rolls her eyes and goes to snap her fingers in front of you, bringing you down from your trance. “Hello? Earth to (y/n), you still with us?” she calls for you and you can’t help but blush as you realize you might have been in your head for awhile.

“Sorry, sorry” you apologize, physically turning back to your friends. They all now demand answers to your absence. A lot of raised eyebrows and curious eyes were looking at you as you went to explain “I’m just worried for him” . You took a quick glance once again in the direction of your boyfriend’s office. “He’s been buried in work for a couple of weeks now and this week's case, for sure, didn’t help. And now the director’s been in his office for almost two hours”.

For your luck the team agrees, they’ve noticed the same thing. How tense Hotch was during the case, barely got any sleep and just has been trying to power through. “But I also get it, as it is almost the end of the year and every case and report needs to be evaluated and done. I’d be stressed too, even if I had to do a fraction of what he has on his shoulders” Emily thinks and the others agree. You included. You’re so proud of him and you know he is the best at his job. But you can’t help but worry.

Half an hour later, the office door finally opens and the director walks out. He nods at the team as he passes and leaves the bullpen, leaving a cloud of relief behind. You take a deep breath and get up, heading towards the once again closed door. Once you reach it, you take a look behind you and as no one was paying attention to you, you adjust your clothes a tiny bit and knock on the door.

Hearing him tell you to come in, you take a last look at your outfit. You’re wearing a tight tank top and skirt with an oversized cardigan to cover it. You pull the tank top a tiny bit lower, revealing your bra just the right amount. You open the door and greet him quietly “Got a moment?”

He raises his eyes from the paper just for a couple of seconds. “Hey, yeah come in. Give me a moment to finish this, okay?” he turns back to the file in front of him. His face is in deep frown and he looks tired. You take off your cardigan and toss it on the leather couch. You watch him writing something and the back of his hand brushing over the writing constantly, leaving the back of his left palm stained. You step closer to his desk, taking a seat on it, right next to his hand so it’s impossible for him to notice how short your skirt actually is.

He drops his pen and leans back on his chair. His eyes finally take in what you’re wearing and you can’t help but notice him holding back a smirk. “Is this what you’ve been wearing all day?” he asks, looking deeply in your eyes. His hand goes to draw circles on your thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

“Long day?” you ignore his question. He nods in agreement, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment. “I need you, Aaron” you whine and he tilts his head slightly.

“Is that so?” his eyes following the outline of your body and moving up to meet your eyes again. “Is that why you’re dressed like this all day at the office? To get my attention?”

“You’ve been so boring” you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. His hand drops from your thigh. “I’ve just wanted your attention, but nothing. Maybe I’ll just go home and play with my toys.” you stand up and take a few steps backwards, causing the man to stand up as well. You head towards the door. You open your mouth to speak but as the man harshly pushes you to the wall, covering your body with his, only a small moan comes out.

“Boring, huh? Oh, I will show you boring, sweetheart” he whispers in your ear “But oh please, do continue with what you were going to say” he encourages, a flame in his eyes telling you to tread carefully. You try to think of your words, but his lips now so close to yours makes your brain short circuit. His breath is hot on your skin, lips hovering above yours.

“Maybe” you start and you see his eyes darken even more “maybe, my toys can satisfy me better than you, old man” you tease him, knowing it will drive him wild. You know it will get under his skin just the best way and you will have a long night ahead of you after that comment.

“In that case” he steps back and creates a small space between your bodies. “I was going to take you right here, right now. I mean, who am I to deny a lady from something that they need, right?” He walks back and sits on his chair. He leans to his forearms and looks right to your soul “but as you decide to be a brat, I’m going to make you wait. You’re not in charge here, sweetheart. And you and me both know, those toys can’t do to you what I can” he leans back and he watches you leave the office, legs trembling.

You’re sure your legs will give out any moment as you lower yourself back to the bullpen. You navigate to your own desk and just stare at your files with a blank stare on your face. There was no way you would be able to focus on them for the rest of the day. All you could think about was Him.

You’re not sure if you’re upset over the fact that you did not end up on your knees in his office. Or have that smug smile between your legs until he’s ready to bend you over his desk.

But at the same time, excitement runs under your skin, knowing he will have his way with you. You know he will punish you in the most pleasurable way. What a way to relieve the stress of the week.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” Reid is the first to say something and it catches your attention. The whole team was now curious and staring at you.

“Don’t worry about it” you try to say, but you knew none of them were going to stop there. They all started asking questions, wanting to know what happened and what he said to you, all of them thinking he’d said something rude or bad in his state of stress.

But what they don’t know is that it was everything but that. He’d said all the right words, he’d done all the right things and made you feel like your skin was on fire wherever he had touched you. What they don’t know is your need for their boss right now. Have him between your legs, pin you against the wall and forget about the stress for a moment.

Not a moment too early, the clock struck three and Aaron entered the bullpen and walked up to his team. “Go home, everyone! Good job this week. The director gave us a lot of feedback, we’ll go through them first thing on Monday, but nothing to worry about. You’ve all done great” he goes to explain, looking every member in the eye as he speaks. He even has a small smile on his lips, it’s clear he’s proud of his team.

He looked at everyone, but you. And it was killing you inside. You tried to remain calm but as you were trying to seek the attention from him, he made it his mission to not give it.

It was probably the hardest thing he’d done all week. To keep his eyes off of you when you sit at your desk, looking so tempting and innocent. All he wanted to do was to soak in the image of you, clearly still hot and needy for him. But instead of doing that, he turns away and leaps up the stairs back to his office to gather his belongings, ready to head home as well.

“That was cold,” Emily speaks as she gathers her things. “Are you going to be alright?”

You assure them that there’s nothing to worry about and you put your big cardigan back on your shoulders. The team leaves first, but you hold back to wait for Aaron. He and Dave exchange a few words at his office. It takes a couple of minutes for the men to separate and your boyfriend to exit his office.

“Ready?” He asks dryly. His face is totally unreadable and it makes you gulp. You’re not sure if he’s asking if you’re ready to get going or if you’re ready for the evening you have ahead of you. You end up nodding, the answer remaining the same for both questions.

The anticipation is thick in the air. He’s clearly taken on his role in your little game. He’s silent and cold even. But even when he’s like this, he can’t turn off the gentleman side of him. He can’t help it but hold the doors open for you and let you enter the elevator before him. Both of those sides of him remind you why you fell for him in the first place.

The car ride goes by in silence. He’s fully focused on the road, but you’re dying for his attention already. You love the way he usually rests his palm on your thigh as he drives, but not today. It feels empty without his big, strong hand on top of it. So, you decide to draw his attention to what he’s missing.

At first, you fidget with the hem of your skirt between your fingers. Just enough for him to notice. And once you know you’ve gotten his attention, you draw the hem up, just a few inches. A chuckle escapes your mouth as you watch his knuckles whiten around the steering wheel. You didn’t mean to laugh, but the way his lips tighten to a fine line tells you it is going to be worth it.

If the man wasn’t so obedient to the law, he’d possibly run all the red lights he could, just to get home faster. He tried his hardest to hold his composure, not to give in and give you exactly what you want. Not yet. But he’s had a long week and he’s tired. And after all, he’s just a man. It’s taking every last bit of him to keep his hands off of you.

Once the engine is turned off, you hop out of the car. You sprint to the front door of your apartment and you hear his heavy footsteps following you close behind. You push the door open and rush inside. Once he’s gotten close enough to you, his hand grasps you by your waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he basically growls. His fingers are rough on your skin.

You hear the door slam shut and just seconds later, you find your own back against it. His body is quick to cover yours, and only the scent of him gets your knees to buckle. His lips are hovering over yours and his eyes are dark as he stares into yours. You tilt your chin up just a little, trying to close the distance between your lips. But it’s for nothing. You find no words, now that you’re so close to him.

“Hm?” he encourages you to continue and brushes his nose slightly to yours “No clever come back? What a shame” he speaks until he can’t hold himself back any more. He crashes his lips against yours, pulling you into a bruising kiss. His body has boxed you in against the door, to make sure you have no way to escape.

Your hands go to work on his tie, but he quickly commands you to quit it. “You will not get to touch, until I say so” Aaron orders, but that doesn’t stop you. With a grin on your lips, you continue to loosen his tie and manage to open a button on his shirt. But he’s quick to grasp both of your hands, holding them by your wrists. “Why can’t you follow a simple command? I thought I’ve taught you better” he mutters between kisses.

“I was” you begin but the fire behind his eyes tell you to be careful with your words. “I was going to go and find the toys. Maybe they can teach you a thing or two, old man” you whisper, your courage giving out on your words.

At times, you curse your bratty mouth. This time definitely being one of those. “Jump” he orders and you do exactly that. Your legs go to wrap around him and with a bruising grasp, he holds you against his body. “I’ll show you a thing or two, and if you’re still able to speak afterwards, you can tell me if those toys are good for anything” Aaron growls to your ear before he carries you to the bedroom.

You knew you had him exactly where you wanted him, you had gotten under his skin and made him forget about everything else around you. You were the center of his attention and his only goal was to make you his and make his brat behave.

The bed creaks underneath you as he throws you on to it. Your legs still hang over the edge, just enough for him to stand between them. His gaze alone is making you seek friction between your legs. It’s electrifying and blinding. He stands between your legs, tossing away his tie and jacket and you can’t help but stare at his fingers as he goes to unbutton his shirt.

The bulge in his slacks seems painful already, and you’re more than eager to ease his discomfort. You instinctively lick your lips as you eat him up with your eyes. His chest and torso are toned and strong. His shoulders are broad and his arms look absolutely delicious, even if they’re still covered by his shirt. “Enjoying the view, brat?” his hand goes to palm himself over his pants and it leaves you salivating. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I am going to show you some things tonight, but because you’ve been so mouthy today, I’m going to use it for myself first”.

He orders you on your knees and you don’t recall yourself ever falling as fast as you do now. Your hands reach up for his belt, but he’s quick to slap them away. “I told you. You. Do not. Get to. Touch” he spits out and your hands drop to your sides. “Good girl” he whispers ever so quietly to your obedience.

His hands are quick to open his belt and pants. He slides them down along with his boxers and you’re right at eye level with his crotch. You lick your lips as his own hands wrap around his cock, pumping it a couple of times right in front of you.

Once he gives you his permission, you eagerly wrap your mouth around it. Even if you’ve done this many times before, the size of him still catches you off guard sometimes. His fingers are soft in your hair, but his grip is quick to tighten and push you further on his cock. He’s waited for this long enough, he’s been patient with you and your bratty mouth. It is his time to get a reward for it. “There you go” he encourages you as you move your head back and forth on him. “See? I’ve wanted your dirty little mouth on me all day” Aaron tilts his head back a little as the tip of him brushes against the back of your throat. You even hear a small curse coming out of his mouth, which is all the encouragement you need.

Once you get more comfortable around him, you move your tongue along his length. Your hand goes to his base and squeezes slightly. You look up to him through your eyelashes, asking for permission to touch. But the man didn’t seem to care at the moment, he was enjoying it too much. You loved the little curse from him earlier and you’re dying to hear it again. You let him push you down just a little bit further on his cock, taking it all. You swallow around him and there it is.

“Fuck” he swears at the sensation. If he had any less self control, he’d let himself cum in your mouth. But he had some other plans, so he had to stop himself. “Off” he commands and you obey. A drop of saliva is glistening on your lips and his thumb goes to softly wide it off. “Strip. And don’t make me tell you again”.

You’re now eager to please him, you’ve had enough of your fun. You’re now desperate to feel him and make him feel good. You let your skirt drop down to the floor and toss your tank top over your head.

He slowly strokes himself to the sight of you, undressing in front of him. Only the sight of you makes his brain short circuit and the only thing in his head is to please you and make you squirm under his touch. You take off your bra and toss it to the floor as well.

His patience snaps and he pushes you on your back to the bed. His hand is firmly on your throat, tilting your chin up slightly. His lips crash down on you again and it makes your back arch. His fingers leave your throat and come to caress your cheek. His facade breaks momentarily, your safety and wellbeing is always priority to him and he wants to make sure you know it. “Color?”

“Green” you answer quickly. “Please, Aaron. I need you so bad”.

“Not what I was looking for, Angel” his fingertips trace your skin so lightly it gives you goosebumps. “Will you behave yourself?” his fingers trace down on your stomach all the way to your thighs as his eyes are looking deep into yours.

“Y-yes” you gasp as his hand traces over your underwear. “Sir” you make sure to add and it works like a switch in him. He grins in approval and kisses your jawline up all the way to your ear.

“Good girl” he whispers and with a trail of rough kisses finds his way between your thighs. Exactly where you’ve wanted him for hours. He hums as he pulls down your soaked underwear “look at you. So wet and I haven’t even touched you. Too bad you decided to be a brat, or I’d gotten to taste this sweet little cunt hours ago”.

For a man of few words, Aaron Hotchner has a dirty mouth. And you’re obsessed.

His hands are firmly on your hips, holding you down. He makes sure that you’re watching him as he goes down on you and only the sight of him makes you buck your hips. “Be a good girl for a change and daddy will take good care of you” he says dryly and with a smirk, plants kisses on your inner thigh.

His breath is warm and his tongue slowly licks up your folds. You let your head sink into the mattress and every last bit of tension and build up stress leaves your body. There’s nothing else but you and him and this moment. He knows your body so well, it’s kind of scary. As his tongue works around your clit, you can’t hold back your moan anymore.

“Isn’t that the most delicious sound out there” his tone is dark but he’s quick to go back down. The way he eats you out never fails to surprise you. Your little whimpers only fuel him and he could go on for days, just to hear you moan out his name. “I’m not sure if I should let you cum yet” he thinks out loud, slowing his pace. He could tell you were getting close, and he can’t let you have all the fun to yourself.

“Sir, please” you find yourself begging for him already and your hips buck at the loss of contact with his mouth. “I’ll be good. Daddy please let me cum”.

“You should have thought of that before” Aaron’s laugh has always been one of your favorite things about him, but at this moment you couldn’t help but whine. “Turn around” his tone goes back to dark again and you don’t hesitate to obey.

“I’ll do anything, sir. Please just let me cum” you whine. His hands are tight on your hips, you’re sure they’ll leave a mark but you don’t mind. He positions himself behind you and traces your spine with one of his hands.

“Anything, huh? We’ll see about that” he’s decided that he’s had enough of waiting. He’s been patient enough with you.

With a harsh thrust, he pushes himself in you, leaving you to scream out his name. It stings, but it’s quick to turn into pleasure. At first his pace is slow and careful, but only at first. “When I saw you in the skirt today, all I wanted was to bend you over my desk and have you right then and there” he speaks. His husky voice is enough to make you see stars, not to mention every time he thrusts in, he brushes against your g-spot that makes your legs weak. “But I know you would have enjoyed that too much”.

His movements become sharper and faster and he knows you are getting close to your edge by the way you’re clenching around him. “You take me so well, sweet girl” he praises as he leans his own head back.

“I’m so close daddy. P-please” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence.

“That’s okay. You can cum”

It’s all you need. Your climax hits you like a wall of bricks, leaving you breathless and shaking. His name leaves your lips like it’s the only thing inside your brain that makes sense. And Aaron is quick to take pride in it. His name leaving his girl’s mouth like it’s the only thing that matters and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So tight, sweetheart” he gasps as he continues with his thrusts.

It feels like every nerve ending in your body has burst into flames. The stars in your eyes get brighter by every thrust and your whole body feels over sensitive as the man continues to chase down his own pleasure. “You feel so good, sir” you feel yourself babbling.

You can’t help but whine as he pulls out. “I want to see you” he orders and pushes you on your back. He pulls you to the edge of the bed and you go to wrap your legs around him. “Gosh you’re gorgeous” he breathes out as he sees your eyes again. He can’t help but admire every inch of you beneath him and only the thought of you gets you closer to the edge.

You love the way he leans his head back as he thrusts back into you and the sensation takes over him. You love having that power over him. You love making him feel so good. His hand goes to rub your clit as he continues with his movement already drawing you back towards your climax, once again. “You feel so good, baby. Wrapped around me like that” Aaron's voice is shaking as he’s getting closer and he’s making sure he gets you there with him. And with the way he rubs your clit and how fast his thrusts are, there’s no way you’ll last.

“Fuck, Aaron” you scream out his name as you unravel under him for the second time. The intensity of it shocks you and it leaves you completely breathless.

“So so good baby” he growls and you feel him filling you with his cum. He chews on his bottom lip as every last bit of tension leaves his body. He lets himself catch a breath or two before even thinking of moving. He looks up to the ceiling as he tries to ground himself back down from his high.

Slowly, he lowers his gaze and his heart feels like bursting out of his chest as he meets your eyes. How your lips are curved into a tired smile, how your chest heaves up and down, trying to calm your breath. It all looks so beautiful in his eyes and he can’t believe his luck.

He joins you on the bed and goes to pull you to his chest. He gently kisses your forehead as neither of you can yet find words to speak. You rest your head on his chest and just listen to his heartbeat for a moment.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Aaron eventually breaks the silence. “Do you need something?” He pulls a blanket to cover the both of you and his arms are gently pulling you closer to him.

“I’m incredible” you breathe out. You love it when the man gets rough on you. And the aftercare with Aaron is always so sweet and caring, it makes it all ten times better. He’s gentle and he’s respectful, but you also know how to push his buttons to make him absolutely feral on you and it is beyond amazing.

“That you are, sweetheart,” he laughs. “That you are”.

Spencer smiled at the man. “You could say so, but we know so little about the brain and especially the brains of serial killers. Statistically, with the number of serial killers out there and with the amount of information we have on the brain it would be impossible for me to know all of the information but… I can try.” He stated. His gaze flickered from his lips to his eyes.

Aaron’s smile turned into a smirk as he squeezed the back of Spencer’s neck a bit tighter. “I’m sure you can, and will. But that’s enough for tonight. Come on, bed time.” He stood and walked over to the door before turning to wait for Spencer to follow.

Spencer shut down his desktop before getting out of his chair. He followed Aaron out of the room, shutting the light off on the way out. “How is Jack?”

Aaron’s smile softened once again at the mention of his son. “He’s doing well, excited for a night at his aunt’s.” He turns back to shoot Spencer a grin as he enters the bedroom, comfortable in lover’s space. “He asked about you.”

“What did he ask?” Spencer asked. He continued to follow him and sat down on bed with a soft sigh. He gazed up at Aaron warmly.

Hotch loosened his tie, his fingers working at the knot as he gazed back at Spencer. He draped it over the back of a chair before working on his shirt buttons. “He asked how you were, and if you’d be over again soon.”

Hearing Jack ask about him made Spencer smile. He watched Aaron’s nimble fingers work on his shirt buttons. “And what did you tell him?” Spencer looked back up at Hotch.

Aaron watched Spencer’s eyes track the movement of his hands, humming to himself. “So many questions,” he teased, letting his shirt fall off his shoulders before placing that aside as well. The corner of his lips quirked mischievously, revealing a dimple.

Spencer raised a brow at Hotch, tilting his head to the side slightly. “I thought that you liked it when I ask all of my questions.” He struggled to hold his gaze - tempted to look at the man’s lean physique.

“I do, baby. But I don’t necessarily enjoy talking about my son when I’m about to fuck you,” Aaron told him in his even cadence. He kept his gaze on Spencer as his hands undid his belt. He wet his lips, thinking about how they had the whole night and all of tomorrow alone together.

Spencer opened his mouth to say something but quickly snapped it shut. He felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears become warm at Hotch’s statement. He let his gaze flicker over him as he undid his belt. He almost squirmed on the bed, his cock twitching beneath his pants. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “You could have said that sooner.”

Aaron quirked an eyebrow at him, his hands pausing momentarily. “What, did you want me to come in and say ‘hi, Spencer, I want to fuck you?’” He watched his younger lover’s face flush as he wriggled on the bed. “No, that’s not what you want. You want me to tell you to come over here and kneel at my feet.” He left one hand on the button of his jeans, giving Spencer an expectant look.

Reid knew that look all too well by now. He slowly stood up and approached Hotch, holding eye contact with him for a moment once he got closer to him. He knelt before his feet obediently, gazing up at him with warm eyes.

“Oh, that’s my good boy,” Hotch cooed warmly. He ran his free hand through Spencer’s hair as he spoke. “So obedient,” he praised as he looked into Spencer’s eyes and gripped long brown locks. He gave a little tug so Spencer kept his eyes locked with Hotch’s dark ones. “You want my cock, angel?”

Spencer pressed into Hotch’s gentle touch. A small groan left him as he tugged on his hair, fluttering shut in pleasure before bringing his attention back to lover. “Y-Yes, sir.” He spoke softly, his tongue briefly running across his lips.

Hotch’s dick twitched in his pants as he felt himself harden. He’d never get over the way Spencer submitted to him. “Go on, baby. Take it out for me.” He gave one more sharp tug to Spencer’s hair just to hear what kind of noise he’d make.

Reid whimpered as Aaron pulled his hair again. Gentle hands ran up his thighs, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He kept his gaze on Hotch as he slipped his hard cock out from his briefs. He swallowed, biting his bottom lip.

Aaron watched him carefully, his hand never leaving Spencer’s curls. His free hand came down to stroke his exposed cock, groaning lowly at the feeling. “What do you want, baby boy?” he asked him lowly.

“I want your cock, sir.” Spencer’s hands came to rest on top of his knees obediently. He struggled to hold Hotch’s gaze as he stroked himself in front of him. He felt his cock begin to twitch and leak, straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Such a good boy, waiting so patiently,” Aaron praised. He shifted his hips forward so he could tap the head of his cock against Spencer’s lips. He watched with a heated gaze as he smeared precome against his boy’s lips, his heart thrumming at the way Spencer let him use him. “Open up, angel,” he commanded.

Reid followed Aaron’s command, opening his mouth when told rather than the moment that his cock touched his lips. He watched Hotch intently, trying to remain as still as possible. His heart swelling in his chest at the sound of his praise.

Hotch slid his cock into Spencer’s waiting mouth, groaning lowly as the wet heat engulfed him. His grip tightened in the light brown hair as he glanced down, the sight of the genius on his knees making his cock twitch in the young man’s mouth. He cupped Spencer’s cheek, stroking his thumb gently beneath his eye. Hotch watched him for a moment before threading his other hand in his hair as well. “Suck.”

Spencer eagerly obeyed, his lips closing around Hotch’s length. His tongue rested on the underside of his cock, slowly making his way to the head before taking him again. He felt himself relax at the feeling of Hotch’s hands firmly in his hair. Soon he was bobbing up and down on Aaron’s dick, lewd noises escaping him as licked and sucked every inch he could fit in his mouth.

Aaron groaned, a soft “fuck,” passing through his lips as Spencer started sucking his cock. He let Spencer control the pace, just enjoying himself as he watched his boy put in the work.

Spencer worked Hotch’s length faster at the sound of his praise. He held himself at the base of his cock with his nose burrowed in coarse hair, his eyes watering and throat tightening around Aaron before he pulled back. A low moan escaped him as the tip left his mouth with a wet ‘pop’, his hazel eyes trained on Hotch. He gripped his knees to keep himself as steady as possible.

“Fuck, baby,” Hotch groaned, taking a breath before tugging on the young man’s hair. “Up,” he said in that authoritative tone that came so easily to him. “I can see how hard you’re trying not to touch yourself, baby. Let me give you a reward.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” Reid immediately brought himself to stand, steadying himself by holding onto Hotch’s arms for a moment. He released his grip on his biceps, eagerly looking up at the man. His face was flushed and his lips were red after sucking Hotch’s cock.

“So fucking pretty, baby,” Hotch purred. He pulled Spencer’s face to his own and kissed him passionately, his lips moving hard and slow. One hand slid from Spencer’s hair, caressing the side of his neck before settling over Spencer’s throat.

Hotch always knew how to make his knees weak. His hands came up to rest on his shoulders. He kissed him hungrily, pressing himself against the man. His hard cock pressed against his hip and he whimpered at the sweet friction.

Hotch slipped his thigh between Spencer’s legs, humming when he felt his boyfriend’s hard cock press against him through the layers of their pants. He pressed his tongue into Spencer’s mouth and groaned as he tasted himself there. Aaron pulled back just enough to breathe between their lips, “go ahead, baby.”

Spencer rocked his hips against Hotch’s leg, releasing a breathy moan against his lips. He gripped his shoulders tighter to balance himself. How desperate for Aaron did he look right now? His throbbing cock continued to leak as he pleasured himself. He knew that his pants were stained at this point but that was a problem for tomorrow. The only thing that he wanted right now was Aaron.

Aaron tugged on Spencer’s hair at the sound of his soft moan before quickly working off the young man’s sweater and shirt. “Shit baby, you look so good like that, humping my leg. Did you miss me that much, sweet thing?” Hotch teased him, the hand on his throat moving to land a light smack to his ass before grabbing it roughly in his palm.

“Yes, sir. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we left the office.” He admitted, a bit breathless while he shamelessly humped Aaron’s thigh. He jumped a bit as he smacked his ass, but found his rhythm again as he grasped his ass firmly. Another whimper leaving him, he trailed his lips up the length of Hotch’s neck gently.

Aaron groaned lowly in his throat, everything about his boy was just too delectable, from the feel of his little thrusts against his flexed thigh to his soft sounds of pleasure. He turned his head to nip at Spencer’s lip before gazing into his heated eyes. “Such a needy little boy. It’s a good thing you have me to take care of you, hmm?”

“Yes, I’m very lucky, sir.” Spencer nodded in agreement. His hazel eyes had darkened as he continued to thrust against the strong thigh beneath him, but now he wanted more. He held Hotch’s gaze as he pressed into his thigh harder. His nails biting into his shoulders.

Aaron couldn’t help but smirk as he watched Spencer, his grip in his hair and on his ass tightening. “You need something, baby?” he cooed.

“I want you to fill me up with your hard cock, sir. Please.” Spencer pouted, but he didn’t stop humping his master’s leg. He whimpered again as his grip on him tightened.

Hotch surged forward to kiss him hard, his hands sliding to Spencer’s hips as he walked them back towards the bed. “Yeah, baby?” He asked between kisses. “You want your master’s cock? Want me to fill you up and fuck you into the bed?” Hotch stopped once Spencer’s knees hit the edge of the bed, moving to undo the young man’s belt, his strong thigh rubbing back and forth against the hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants.

Hotch’s words made Spencer groan. “Yes! Yes, sir.” He pleaded, messily rocking into Hotch’s thigh as he worked on his belt. One hand released his shoulder and slipped between them before grasping Aaron’s cock. He started to stroke him slowly, brushing his thumb over the tip. He knew that he was being over-eager, but he couldn’t help it when it came to Hotch.

Hotch bucked his hips into Spencer’s hand with a moan, his gaze flicking down between them. He watched Spencer hump his leg and stroke his cock at the same time and felt his knees tremble at the sight. “Fuck, Spencer, that’s enough,” he said gruffly. He quickly undid his pants before pushing them down his long, pale legs. “Turn around and bend over,” he said with dark, heated eyes.

Spencer’s heart swelled at the reaction that he had managed to pull from the composed man. He quickly turned around, snatching two of the pillows - one to rest under his hips and another to rest his chest on or hold onto. He shivered as the cool air ran over his raised ass and his throbbing cock as he bent over.

Aaron had to grip the base of his cock at the sight Spencer presented him with. “Such a good boy, so well trained, aren’t you? Getting yourself ready for me,” he continued to praise the young man. He opened the drawer next to Spencer’s bed and pulled out the lube, squirting some on to his fingers. Hotch rubbed the pad of a finger against Spencer’s hole, his other hand rubbing up and down his back.

Spencer jumped a bit at the sensation of the cool lube against his skin before he settled down again. He started to relax, melting against the pillows and pressing himself back into Hotch’s touch.

“Are you my good boy, Spencer?” Aaron asked as he continued to tease the tight muscle. He wanted to hear more of those sweet sounds he’d been making so he stepped closer, the wet head of his cock nudging behind Spencer’s balls.

“Yes, sir.” Reid nodded into the pillow, glancing back at Hotch briefly. He focused on relaxing, the feeling of Hotch’s rough yet warm hand against his back. A small whine slipped past his lips as he felt his cock press against him.

Aaron shushed him gently. “Relax, angel. I’m gonna take care of you.” He started to press one slick finger past the tight ring of muscle, his other hand continuing to rub soothingly against his flank. “Gonna get you nice and wet and loose for me, baby. So you can take my big fat cock. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby?”

Spencer moaned at the feeling of Hotch’s finger. He pressed back into his hand, already eager for more rather than focusing on relaxing. “I want your cock so badly, sir.” He murmured against the pillow. His cock was throbbing, smearing precum against his own stomach.

Aaron gave a quick spank to his ass before grabbing his hip, his finger sliding all the way up to his knuckle. “You’re gonna take what I give you, angel. Don’t get greedy.” He continued to roll his hips against Spencer every now and then, his cock nudging against his taint and creating a sweet friction that had the man sucking his breath between his teeth.

Reid let out a small yelp as Hotch spanked him. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry for getting greedy. I can’t help it. You just feel so good.” He whimpered at the feeling of Hotch grinding against him.

Hotch wet his lip as he watched his finger pump in and out of Spencer’s hole. “That’s okay, baby. I know you get all stupid from your master’s fingers, isn’t that right?” He easily slipped another finger inside of the genius whining into the pillow, groaning at the squelching sounds they were making.

Spencer couldn’t stop himself from groaning as he felt Hotch add another finger. He wanted to press his ass back into his hand. He wanted more. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. “Yes, sir. You feel so good inside of me.”

“Yeah baby? You like my fingers?” Hotch teased as he fucked him with his digits before pausing with his fingers deep inside of Spencer. He crooked them, looking for his lover’s sweet spot. “Want me to make you come on them, baby boy?”

“Fuck, yes. Please, please, sir.” Spencer panted, begging. He moaned, pressing back into Hotch’s hand as he pressed against his sweet spot. He looked back at Hotch over his shoulder with pleading eyes.

“Fuck, Spence,” Hotch panted, his cock twitching at the sight. He angled his hand so the pads of his fingers could rub quick little circles against Spencer’s prostate. “That’s it, fucking beg for it,” he grunted, continuing to rut against the young man.

Reid started to fuck himself on Aaron’s fingers, pressing into his hand. He moaned, resting his forehead into the pillow. “Please, master, please let me come on your fingers. I won’t even touch my cock - just - please don’t stop.” He whimpered.

Aaron growled before pumping his fingers in and out of Spencer’s hole hard and fast. He tried to hit the young man’s prostate on every thrust. Hotch felt drunk on Spencer’s moans and dirty words. “Yeah? Gonna come just from me playing with your hole? Let me see it, baby. Come on, come on my fingers so then I can stuff you with my cock,” he panted. His other hand gripped Spencer’s hip hard, continually pulling him back against the thrusts of his fingers.

Spencer scrambled, grasping the sheets between tightly clenched fists as Aaron’s fingers thrusted into him. “A-Ah… it’s so good, sir, so good… yes… yes… Aaron!” He cried out, his muscles tending as he came. He was overcome with pleasure as his cock throbbed - making a mess of his stomach and the top sheet. He almost collapsed against the pillows. Soft, breathy pants leaving him. “Mm… you feel so good.” He mumbled, shuddering at the feeling of Hotch’s fingers still pumping.

“Good boy, sweetheart. Did so well for me, look so pretty coming on master’s fingers,” Aaron murmured lowly in praise before carefully pulling his fingers out. Spencer was being so good for him and it was making his head rush. He was so lucky to have a boy as good as Spencer, and he was going to make sure he knew how special he was. The blunt head of his cock dragged up his taint before pressing against the young man’s asshole. “This what you been waiting for, angel? My big hard cock?” He let Spencer hear him cover his member in lube, stroking himself as he watched the way Spencer’s ass clenched around nothing, waiting to be filled.

Spencer instinctively pressed back against Hotch’s cock as it pressed against his entrance before relaxing back against the pillows. He had barely caught his breath, hadn’t even completely come down from the heady feeling of his orgasm. He didn’t know if he could take more, but he wanted to try. His cock was already twitching at the thought of being filled up. “Mm, yes, sir. I want your cock inside of me so badly.” He practically purred at the thought, the anticipation, of Aaron taking him.

Hotch couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried. Hearing how desperate Spencer was for him and knowing he was still riding the high of his orgasm, he thrust inside him until he was as deep as he could go. Aaron grunted at how hot and tight his lover was and he held Spencer down with a hand gripping the back of his neck possessively, his chest heaving in anticipation.

Spencer cried out as Hotch thrusted into him suddenly. He instinctively shifted forward but was unable to move under Aaron’s strong grip. His hands released the pillow and gripped the duvet, twisting the fabric between clenched fists. His cry turned into a low groan at the sudden sensation of being filled. He groaned, resting his forehead against the bed as he pressed back into his hips. “F-Fuck, Hotch… your cock is so… fuck.”

Hotch moaned lowly, his dick twitching at the way Spencer clenched around him. “Shit, baby,” he panted, “what was that? My cock is so? What?” He teased Spencer as he ground his hips in small circles, letting the young man get used to being filled again. His thumb stroked the side of Spencer’s neck in a soothing gesture, his other hand tugged at a pale asscheek so he could gaze at the way his cock filled him.

“It’s so big, sir. I feel so full.” Reid panted against the pillow, moaning as Hotch began to move his hips. His cock was throbbing, half hard at the the feeling of Aaron’s cock inside of him. He pressed up into the soothing touch against his neck.

Aaron hummed contently, giving Spencer’s neck another squeeze to remind him he was there. “That’s right, baby. And you’re taking it so well. Feel how deep I am, angel,” he spoke lowly before rolling his hips forward just the slightest bit, resulting in a choked off groan from the dark-haired man.

Reid’s breath caught in his chest as Hotch rolled his hips forward. He took a few deep breaths to steady his racing heart before looking back at the man as he groaned. “I’m ready, sir. Please fuck me.” He whimpered as he ground his ass against Hotch’s hips.

He could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat at the way Spencer looked at him, his eyes big and cheeks flushed with need. Aaron leant forward and kissed Spencer hard and dirty, all tongue and teeth, before standing up to his full height again. The hand that was on the back of his neck trailed down his spine, Aaron’s strong hands bracketing Spencer’s lithe waist. Without warning, he pulled out slowly and fucked his boy hard and deep, taking his time to drive Spencer wild with his cock.

Spencer barely had a chance to savor Aaron’s kiss before he was gone. He felt him start to pull out, whimpering until he thrusted back inside of him. The slow, deep thrusts made him moan. Every time he brushed over his sweet spot, he felt his cock begin to leak again. “A-Ah, you feel so good, master.” He bit down on his lower lip to stifle his moans.

Aaron groaned at the honorific, his heart clenching at the trust Spencer put in him. He kept an even pace, pulling Spencer’s hips back into each thrust. “Yeah? Gonna make you feel so good, baby boy. So good,” Aaron panted, mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

It was almost too much for Reid. The sound of skin slapping together. The way Hotch’s cock brushed over his sweet spot - making his muscles tense every time. His sensitive cock throbbing with every thrust or contact with the bed. He rested his cheek on the pillow, allowing him to get a glimpse of Aaron’s face. “Give me more, sir, please. I’ve been such a good boy and you feel so good.” He panted.

A low growl left him at Reid’s words, his hips stuttering for a moment. He leant forward and grabbed a fistful of Spencer’s long hair and tugged, forcing his head off the mattress and his back to arch. Aaron plunged in deeper at this angle, his hips snapping forward into his young lover. “That’s it, such a good boy, taking master’s cock so well, fuck.” The soft praises fell from Hotch’s mouth between grunts of pleasure.

Spencer groaned as Hotch pulled his hair and his body up. The new angle made him moan uncontrollably. He was so full already and now he felt like he was taking more. His thick cock rhythmically brushing back and forth against his sweet spot had him shaking.

“Sound so fucking sexy, baby,” Aaron murmured between breaths. He felt heat pool low in his gut and knew he was getting close. Spencer was a vision below him, shaking on his cock, but he wanted to see his face when he came. He let go of his boy’s hair and pulled out before flipping him onto his back, grabbing him by his hips and pulling him to the edge of the bed before sliding back home, his gaze locked with Spencer’s.

Reid released the sheets as Aaron let go of his hair and slipped out. He opened his mouth to ask Hotch what was going on, the sudden emptiness taking him by surprise, until he felt the older man flip his body around as if he was weightless. Suddenly, he was gazing up at Aaron, feeling the soft duvet run along his backside as he was pulled to the edge of the bed. He met Hotch’s gaze as he entered him with ease, his back arching off the mattress as he groaned in surprise and pleasure. His hands rested above his head, tangled amongst the sheets.

He grabbed Spencer’s leg and placed it over one of his shoulders, his other hand grabbing the back of a pale knee and pushing it towards his chest. Aaron began pounding Spencer into the mattress, his thrusts hard and fast as he gazed into his lover’s eyes. “Fuck, Spencer, shit, so fucking tight for me.”

Between the way that Hotch manhandled him, the angle of his hips, and his thrusts - Reid felt himself coming undone. His cock leaked precome against his already messy stomach. He began to stroke himself slowly causing him to start to clench around on Hotch’s cock. Soft broken moans slipped past his lips as Aaron fucked him senseless. “A-Ah, sir… Aaron… you… your… ugh.” He groaned, barely able to get his words out.

“Yeah? You gonna come again, baby? Gonna come on your master’s cock?” Aaron asked him, hoping Spencer was as close as he was. A large hand wrapped around Spencer’s thigh as Hotch hugged his leg against his own chest, trying to keep that perfect angle as his thrusts grew sloppy. “C’mon, angel, so fucking close,” he panted, heated gaze flickering between Spencer eyes and his hand working his cock.

“Yes… yes - don’t stop, please, sir… Aaron!” Spencer cried out as he came, his muscles tensing and back remaining arched. He clamped down on Hotch’s cock - twitching around him. He entered a warm, heavy headspace, soft groans leaving him as he continued as Hotch thrusted into him sloppily.

“Oh, oh, oh fuck,” Aaron moaned as he came inside of Spencer, his tight ass milking him for everything he’s worth. His grip tightened on Spencer’s legs as he smothered another moan into the man’s knee hooked over his shoulder. He stilled his hips, gazing down at his lover warmly as he tried to catch his breath.

Reid’s chest rose and fell as he took slow, deep breaths to try and catch his breath. He gazed up at Hotch with soft, warm eyes. He was still on cloud nine. His body shivered as he felt him finish inside of him. He mustered a small smile, reaching his hand out to brush his fingertips along Hotch’s jaw.

Aaron nuzzled into Spencer’s palm, his heart soaring at his soft smile which he easily returned. He was suddenly obsessed with feeling the young man underneath him, running his hands up Spencer’s chest. He felt his racing pulse at the column of his flush neck as he leant forward to kiss his boy sweetly.

Spencer hummed happily as he felt Aaron’s hands on his skin. He kissed him gently, pressing his lips against his own eagerly. “Was I a good boy?” He whispered with a small chuckle.

Aaron gave him a cheeky grin, his hands sliding down Spencer’s chest so he could brush his thumbs back and forth across his nipples. “You were such a good boy, baby. Came for me twice and took me so well.” Aaron nudged his nose against Spencer’s. He warned him softly before pulling out with an exhale.

Spencer whimpered as Aaron pulled out. He instinctively pressed into his touch as he felt the calloused fingers against his nipples. “You felt so good.” He murmured, running a hand through Hotch’s hair.

Hotch practically purred at the caress. While Spencer had looked so fucking good under him, he had missed his touch. “Love making you feel good, angel,” he whispered against Spencer’s lips as he moved to kneel on the bed. Aaron wrapped large hands around Spencer’s ankles and placed them behind his back before returning to playing with his hard nipples.

“And I love making you feel good, sir.” He murmured, pecking his lips. Spencer raised a brow up at Hotch as he continued to play with his nipples. His heart was racing beneath his chest. His ankles locked together behind his lower back to help keep him close. “What are you up to?” He asked with a small laugh, shifting beneath Hotch.

“Just wanna feel you, baby,” Hotch murmured, placing small pecks on Spencer’s lips. He pinched the nipple under his right hand, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger while watching Spencer carefully. “Why? Something the matter?”

A small gasp passed his lips as Hotch played with his nipple a bit more roughly. He tightened his grip a bit on his hair as he trailed his lips along his jaw to hide his face. “We both know what you’re doing.” He whispered against his ear before tugging on his ear lobe playfully with his teeth.

Hotch moaned lowly, his hot breath fanning across Spencer’s cheek. “What am I doing?” He asked innocently. Large hands slip up pale skin before gripping brown locks and tugging, bringing his lips to hover over Spencer’s as he raised an eyebrow at the man.

Spencer couldn’t stop the grin that spread on his face. He released Aaron’s hair, his hand traveling down to cup his cheek. “You’re looking for more.” He stated confidently as his thumb brushed against Aaron’s bottom lip tenderly. “I know that look in your eyes, Aaron.”

Aaron pressed a kiss to the pad of his lover’s thumb tenderly before sliding his Unit Chief mask into place. “Don’t profile me, Reid,” he teased, but he couldn’t really keep a straight face towards the end.

“You seemed to profile me pretty well before.” Spencer commented, leaning up to kiss Hotch deeply. “Very well.” He added before he relaxed back against the bed.

Aaron hummed lowly, kissing Spencer softly. “It’s my job,” he teased. He leant back enough to look into Spencer’s eyes. “But if I was? Looking for more?”

“I would try to meet you there. Although I may not be able to walk tomorrow.” He joked lightly, gazing up at Aaron. His hand trailed from his cheek, down his neck, and rested on his chest.

Aaron grinned down at him, his fingers scratching the back of Spencer’s head. “Mm, I really just wanted to tease you,” he admitted with a smirk.

Spencer leaned back into Aaron’s hand, huffing at his statement. He looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Of course you were.” He said with a hum.

Aaron watched his lover carefully, his eyes flitting across his features. He hummed thoughtfully before kissing Spencer with a soft smile. “You wanna go for number three,” Hotch stated more than asked.

“I’m trying to see how far you can go or if you can keep up.” Spencer challenged with a small chuckle. He kissed Hotch warmly. “I want to. I don’t know if my ass or my cock can handle it.” He sighed, although his cheeks turned a bit pink as he said those words.

“Mm, no?” Hotch purred, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Do you still have that vibrator in your drawer?” He tugged at Spencer’s hair roughly, just to watch the way his head jerks back and to slowly get his boy back in his headspace.

Spencer’s breath caught in his chest as Hotch suddenly tugged his hair. He held his gaze, although he could barely meet his eyes. “Yes, sir. It’s next to where the lube was.” He stated. He wanted to be in that headspace again - warm, fuzzy, pleasured with Hotch all around him.

Aaron hummed as he reached over and pulled out the long prostate massager to place it on the bed beside Spencer. He moved to lay beside the other man, grabbing the lube to squeeze some onto his fingers. “You remember your safeword?” Aaron asked him softly before rubbing the pads of his fingers against his loose hole.

“Vulcan.” Spencer said and nodded, turning to lie on his side and face Hotch. He draped a leg over his own to give him easier access. He cupped Aaron’s face in his hands.

“Good boy,” Aaron praised lowly, sliding one finger inside to check and see how sensitive his boy was. He pressed soft kisses across Spencer’s face before leaning back to watch him with intense eyes.

Reid’s back arched, pressing his ass into Hotch’s hand. “A-A-Ah.” His breath caught in his throat. He didn’t expect to feel so sensitive, but he could feel that heat building.

“Shh, I’m right here, baby,” Aaron cooed. He kept his finger buried to the knuckle while crooking his finger, looking for that sweet spot. “I’ve got you.” Hotch’s dick gave a twitch of interest, but his refractory period was nowhere close to his young lover’s.

Spencer groaned as Hotch began to press against his sweet spot. His cock twitched a few times in response. He didn’t know if he had another one in him, but he wanted it so badly. He pressed a tender kiss to Aaron’s lips, gazing at him.

Aaron looked deeply into Spencer’s eyes before rubbing small circles against his prostate, leaning forward to kiss him hard and slow. A wet, hot, tongue pressed against Spencer’s lips, trying to gain access.

Reid parted his lips, his tongue rolling with Hotch’s. He moaned into his mouth, pressing closer so that he was almost against Aaron. He wanted to feel him close. He needed him closer. One hand rested on the back of his neck, the other tangled in his hair.

Hotch licked into Spencer’s mouth, his finger rubbing even harder inside him. He managed to get his other hand between their two bodies so he could rub the pads of his fingers across his lover’s pert nipples. He sucked on his tongue before murmuring, “I kinda wanna see if I can make you cum just from my fingers, again.”

“I want to see if you can too.” Spencer said with a small smile. A hint of a smirk on his lips. A challenge. A sweet moan left him as he began to play with his nipples and rub him harder. His cock was starting to throb and yet it was so sensitive.

Aaron was mindful of any time he brushed against Spencer’s sensitive cock between them, sometimes even hissing softly in empathy. “Yeah baby? You don’t want me to play with your little toy over here?” Hotch asked as he pinched a nipple and tugged on it. He took in Spencer’s face, trying to read what he wasn’t saying out loud.

“Mm your fingers feel so good, but that would too. I don’t know which one I want more, sir.” Spencer murmured, groaning as he tugged on his nipple. He was starting to feel fuzzy, warm all over. He was chasing another orgasm and it felt so good to be fucked by Hotch.

Aaron hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at Spencer’s cock that was twitching to life between them. “While I love how you feel around my fingers,” Hotch began as he removed his finger and instead grabbed the prostate massager. He pressed it into his boy slowly, even though he knew he was loose and wet with lube and his cum that he’d just finger fucked back into him. “They can’t hit quite as deep as your toy can, can they, baby boy?” he asked once the toy was pressed against his prostate with ease.

A low, deep groan left Spencer as Hotch pushed the toy inside of him. “N-No, they can’t s-sir.” He mumbled. It wasn’t as filling as Hotch’s cock, but it felt so damn good. Heavy, warm eyes remained trained on Aaron.

Aaron bit Spencer’s bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth before letting go with a wet pop. “Now you let me know if it’s too much,” he prefaced again as he gazed into Spencer’s eyes. He let his lover take a breath before he pressed the button, making the toy vibrate directly against the bundle of nerves deep in him.

The moan that left Spencer was sinful, borderline pornographic, as the vibrations pressed against his prostate. He pulled Aaron’s face close, kissing him hungrily as he began to rock back onto the toy. He wanted it to be too much and he wanted all of it at the same time.

Arron held his wrist firm, letting his boy fuck himself on his toy. He groaned against Spencer’s lips at the obscene sounds he was making, as well as the sound of the squelching around the toy due to Aaron’s own cum - the effect was heady and overwhelming.

Spencer continued to rock back into his toy, grunting and moaning. He sucked on his bottom lip before releasing it, soft pants brushing against Aaron’s lip. His cock was almost half hard and already leaking.

“That’s it, come on baby,” Hotch panted against Spencer’s lips. He kissed the young man, slow and filthy and filled with tongue, murmuring against his lips. “Wanna see you come one more time. Come on angel, come for me. Let me see you.” Aaron flicked his wrist fast, finally fucking Spencer with the toy, trying to hit his sweet spot every time as he watched him with lustful eyes.

Spencer whimpered, starting to moan as Aaron’s wrist flickered. He craned his neck back, exposing the sensitive pale column to Hotch. “Ha-aah, you feel so good sir,” Spencer babbled, “I want to come for you.” He added. His head was fuzzy, warm, filled with pleasure. A strangled cry left him as he came, his all too sensitive cock rubbing against the sheets as he pressed back into his hand.

A contented hum left Aaron as he watched Spencer come for the third time. He was always amazed by his lover and his ability to take whatever the older man gave him. He turned off the vibrator, leaving warm, wet kisses up and down Spencer’s throat while he settled into post-orgasmic bliss. Hotch wore a shit-eating grin as he gently removed the toy, tossing it onto the hardwood floor to be dealt with later. “You did so good, baby,” he cooed before kissing any place of his lover he could reach - his neck, cheeks, nose, collar bones, shoulders. He would never have enough of Spencer.

Spencer wrapped shaky arms around Aaron. He groaned as the toy left him - his asshole clenching around nothing. A sweet whimper slipped past his lips as Hotch kissed along his body. “Mm thank you, sir.” He whispered, enjoying the bliss that enveloped him.

“You’re so welcome, sweetheart.” The reply rumbled in the back of Hotch’s throat. He wrapped an arm around Spencer and pulled him close, a warm hand splayed against the small of his back. His mind whirled with cleanup that would follow as his lover took his post-coital shower, but for now Aaron just placed a final kiss to the tip of his nose and relaxed.

Spencer opened his eyes and looked at Hotch warmly. He tangled a soft hand in his hair. “Thank you, Aaron.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss him gingerly.

Aaron smiled against his lips, giving him happy little pecks. “It’s my pleasure.” He rubbed warm circles into Spencer’s back as the young man relaxed. “Few more minutes then you gotta hop in the shower.”

Spencer sighed, starting to relax against the sheets. “You’re right, we shouldn’t go to bed like this.” He said with a small laugh.

“Mm, I’m usually right,” Aaron purred happily. His grin was still huge, happy to see his lover sated and content. “How do you feel? Do you want some water?” He pressed another kiss to Spencer’s head, unable to help himself.

“Yes, please.” Spencer smacked his lips together. He slowly untangled himself from Aaron and brought himself to sit up. He stretched his neck, groaning.

“Be right back,” Hotch promised with a kiss to the cheek before sliding out of bed and heading to Spencer’s kitchen. He filled up a glass of water before checking the cabinets for a snack. Settling for an unopened sleeve of ritz crackers, he returned to the bedroom with a warm smile.

Spencer ran a hand through his messy hair as Hotch left. He took a few slow, deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart. What a night. He’d be lucky if he could walk or handle round two tomorrow. He smiled at Aaron as he entered the room. “I see that you’ve found my snacks.” He said, his stomach rumbling at the sight.

A chuckle left Aaron as he sat next to his lover, handing him the water. “I’m definitely taking you grocery shopping tomorrow.” He opened the crackers and ate one before holding another to Spencer’s lips, waiting.

“Ritz crackers sustain me.” Spencer said before he took the cracker that Aaron held out to him. He took a couple sips of water and sighed. “That’s much better.”

Aaron watched his lover with a warm, careful gaze. He placed a hand on Spencer’s thigh and brushed his thumb back and forth slowly. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart? Anything hurt?” Aaron pressed a lingering kiss to the side of Spencer’s head before checking over him once more.

“Not yet. I will be feeling it tomorrow. Let’s hope that we don’t have a new case.” Spencer said, leaning against Aaron. He took a few slow deep breaths, relaxing.

“Your boss sounds like a hard ass. You should take a day off,” Aaron murmured into Spencer’s cheek. He smiled to himself at his own joke before patting his lover’s thigh.

“I should. He works me all day and fucks me all night.” Spencer snorted. He opened his eyes and looked up at Aaron, a dopey smile on his face. He was obviously still coming down from his post-orgasm high.

Aaron drew his head back to give the young man an astonished look that was slightly obscured by his grin. “And here I was, taking care of you. The disrespect I get in this house...”

“In this apartment.” Spencer corrected, kissing Aaron’s neck gently before he sat upright. He stretched his arms above his head, grunting as his shoulders popped.

Aaron rolled his eyes, giving Spencer’s thigh a nice love-smack. “Alright, brat, sounds like you’re ready for a shower,” he announced before sliding out of bed. Aaron meandered over to the en-suite and turned on the water to let it heat up.

“I am. I definitely need it.” Spencer stole a few more ritz crackers and munched on them as he made his way over to the en-suite. He watched Aaron start the shower while enjoying his snack.

Aaron was leant forward, checking the water temperature when he felt eyes on his back and then heard the snap of a cracker. He couldn’t help the soft smile as he turned around to face his love. “It’s nice and warm, come on, you,” he ordered softly before taking Spencer’s crackers and putting them on the counter. He ushered the young man in before sliding behind him.

Reid practically melted between the warm water and the feeling of Hotch behind him. He hummed, leaning his head back against his strong chest. He lingered for a moment before starting to lather his loofah.

Aaron easily plucked the loofah from Spencer’s hands and began lathering the young man’s shoulders and back. He gently cleaned between Spencer’s ass cheeks, sure that he was sensitive, before cleaning the rest of his body and then himself. Pressing warm kisses to his lover’s wet neck, he wrapped his arms around his middle. “Ready to go to sleep, sweetheart?”

His lover gave a contented hum. “Very much, ready,” Spencer agreed with a quiet yawn. He felt Aaron reach around him to turn off the water before pulling the curtain aside and helping him out. A fluffy towel was wrapped around his shoulders, delivered with a kiss to his forehead.

Soon enough, the pair had dried off and returned to bed. Spencer burrowed under the covers with a happy little hum, his mind and body satiated by his lover who slid into bed behind him. Aaron’s strong arm wrapped around his stomach and pulled him back against his chest.

“I love you,” Aaron mumbled against the back of his neck before placing a lingering kiss there.

Spencer found Aaron’s hand under his pillow and threaded their fingers together before exhaling, his body relaxing into the mattress. “I love you too,” he murmured back before the pair of lovers succumbed to sweet dreams.

& & &