#hotchreid

The air smelled faintly of pumpkin spice from the candles Garcia had lit earlier, mixed with the lingering scent of coffee that always seemed to permeate the office, no matter the hour.

The team had cobbled together this “party” after wrapping up a grueling case that had kept everyone on edge for days. It wasn’t much just some snacks pilfered from the break room, a playlist of cheesy Halloween tunes courtesy of Emily, and Garcia’s infamous punch bowl, which she’d spiked with something fruity and deceptively potent.

“Just a little Halloween magic to loosen up those profiler brains!” she’d declared with a wink, her cat-ear headband bobbing as she ladled out cups. You hadn’t argued; after the week you’d all had, a bit of levity was welcome. The alcohol had worked its way through the group, turning stiff shoulders into relaxed slouches and tight-lipped smiles into genuine laughter.

You’d dressed as a classic witch for the occasion a fitted black dress that hugged your curves without being too revealing for the office, complete with a pointed hat that you’d tilted at a jaunty angle and a broomstick prop you’d leaned against your desk early on. It was simple, fun, and far less elaborate than Garcia’s full-on fairy godmother ensemble, complete with glittering wings and a wand that lit up.

Spencer had surprised everyone by showing up in a remarkably accurate Sherlock Holmes outfit a tweed coat, deerstalker hat, and a magnifying glass he kept fidgeting with, as if examining invisible clues on the bullpen floor.

He looked endearingly out of place, his lanky frame swallowed by the coat, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes that made him seem more alive than usual.

Aaron, had gone for minimal effort, which suited him perfectly. A black vampire cape draped over his impeccably tailored suit, and he’d tucked a pair of plastic fangs into his breast pocket, flashing them only when Garcia begged for a photo. “I’m undead, not unprofessional,” he’d quipped dryly, earning a round of chuckles. It was odd seeing him like this, the stoic unit chief with his guard down just a fraction, the lines around his eyes softening in the warm light.

The night had unfolded in waves of easy camaraderie. Morgan had dominated the dance floor (or what passed for one in the bullpen), pulling Emily into a ridiculous Thriller routine that had everyone in stitches. Rossi shared stories of Halloweens past over a glass of his “special reserve” scotch, his voice rich and animated.

JJ had brought in homemade treats ghost-shaped cookies that her kids had helped decorate and she’d spent most of the evening texting updates to Will, her smile soft and content. Garcia flitted around like a benevolent spirit, refilling cups and snapping selfies with anyone who stood still long enough.

But as the clock inched past ten, the energy began to wane. The playlist looped back to Monster Mash for the third time, and people started trickling out. Rossi left first, clapping Aaron on the shoulder with a knowing wink and a half-empty bottle tucked under his arm.

“Don’t stay too late, kids. Even vampires need rest.”

JJ followed soon after, hugging everyone goodbye with apologies about bedtime routines. Morgan dragged Emily out the door, promising “real drinks at a real bar,” their laughter echoing down the hallway.

Garcia was the last to go, shoving one final cup of punch into your hand with a mischievous grin. “For the road or the office, whatever. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She blew kisses and bounced away, her wings catching the light as the door swung shut behind her.

Now, the bullpen felt cavernous, the remnants of the party scattered like autumn leaves: empty cups, crumpled napkins, a forgotten witch’s hat (not yours) on the floor. It was just you, Spencer, and Aaron left, the three of you lingering in that post-party haze where time stretches and conversations turn introspective.

Spencer was perched on the edge of your desk, his long legs swinging idly as he launched into one of his signature rambles, the deerstalker hat pushed back on his head.

“You know, the origins of Halloween trace back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain,” he said, his voice animated despite the slight flush on his cheeks from the punch. “It marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, a time when they believed the veil between the living and the dead thinned. People would wear costumes to ward off ghosts animal skins and heads, originally. It’s fascinating how it’s evolved into this commercial holiday with candy and plastic pumpkins.”

You leaned back in your chair, sipping the last of your punch, the warmth spreading through your chest like a gentle fire. “And here we are, warding off unsubs instead of spirits. Though Garcia’s punch might summon a few hangovers tomorrow.” You laughed, the sound light and unburdened, the alcohol making everything feel a little sharper, a little more vibrant.

Aaron stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, the cape still draped over his shoulders like a forgotten accessory. He wasn’t one for small talk, but tonight he seemed content to listen, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched you and Spencer banter.

The punch had softened him, too his posture less rigid, his dark eyes warmer in the low light. “Garcia does have a knack for potions,” he agreed, his voice a low rumble that carried a hint of amusement. “But I think we’ve all earned it after this week.”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, nearly knocking his hat off. “Absolutely. Did you know that the average American consumes about 3.4 pounds of candy on Halloween? That’s roughly 1.5 billion pounds nationwide. Imagine the sugar rush.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Spence, only you could turn a party into a statistics lesson. But yeah, this was nice. Beats staring at case files.”

Aaron glanced toward his office door, up the short flight of stairs that separated his space from the bullpen. It was a subtle barrier, a reminder of hierarchy, but tonight it felt less imposing. “The music’s giving me a headache,” he admitted, rubbing his temple lightly. “Why don’t we move this somewhere quieter? My office has actual chairs that don’t squeak like these do.”

Spencer hopped off the desk with surprising agility, adjusting his coat. “Yeah, good idea. I could use a break from the looping playlist it’s like auditory torture after a while.”

You stood, grabbing your cup and following them up the stairs, your steps feeling light and buoyant from the alcohol. There was something electric in the air, a subtle shift that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it made your skin tingle with anticipation.

Aaron’s office was a familiar sanctuary: the large wooden desk piled with neatly organized files, shelves lined with law books and a few personal touches a photo of Jack, his son, grinning from a soccer field; a worn leather briefcase in the corner.

The couch against one wall looked inviting, plush and rarely used for anything but late-night crashes during cases.

Aaron flicked on the desk lamp, casting a warm, golden glow over the room that chased away the sterile fluorescence of the bullpen. He gestured to the couch.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” Spencer claimed one end, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh, his legs stretching out. You took the middle, close enough to feel the heat from his body but not invading his space. Aaron pulled up his desk chair, positioning it across from you both, and loosened his tie with a practiced motion, the fabric whispering against his shirt.

For a while, the conversation stayed easy, meandering through the night’s highlights. You recounted Morgan’s dance moves in excruciating detail, mimicking his exaggerated Thriller zombie shuffle until Spencer was doubled over laughing, his hand clutching his side.

Aaron shared a rare anecdote from his own past a college Halloween party where he’d dressed as a lawyer, complete with briefcase, only to realize everyone else was in actual costumes. “I spent the night explaining I wasn’t being ironic,” he said, shaking his head with a self-deprecating smile.

The punch kept the words flowing, the alcohol stripping away the usual filters. Spencer mentioned the mandatory bureau seminar on workplace boundaries they’d all endured last month, his eyes rolling dramatically behind his glasses.

“That was the most awkward hour of my life. We’re profilers we read people for a living. But suddenly, we’re all sitting there pretending we don’t know what ‘inappropriate conduct’ means. Like, ‘Don’t hug your coworkers too tightly’? Garcia would be fired on day one.”

You giggled, the sound escaping before you could catch it, your hand covering your mouth. “Exactly! ‘Keep it professional.’ As if we don’t share life-or-death moments every week. Garcia hugs everyone within an inch of their lives, and no one’s complaining.”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, the cape slipping off one shoulder. His eyes met yours, holding them for a beat longer than necessary, a spark of something unspoken flickering there.

“Some lines are worth blurring, though. Off the clock, when it’s just…us.” His voice was steady, measured, but there was an undercurrent of warmth, an invitation that made your pulse quicken just a fraction.

Spencer shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours in a way that felt deliberate, though his face remained the picture of innocence. “Yeah, like playing games that aren’t in the handbook. Truth or dare, for example. That’s not covered in any seminar.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to look at him. Spencer was usually the one to deflect personal questions with facts or change the subject entirely. But tonight, with the punch buzzing in his veins, he seemed bolder, his eyes bright with mischief. “Truth or dare? In Hotch’s office? Bold move, Spence.”

Aaron didn’t miss a beat, his gaze shifting between you two with that analytical intensity he brought to everything. “Sounds like a recipe for HR nightmares.” But he was smiling that rare, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look years younger. “Though I suppose what happens off the clock stays off the clock.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, the alcohol making you feel reckless in the best way. “We’re all adults here. What’s the harm in a little game to wind down? It’s not like we’re profiling each other… or are we?”

Spencer glanced at Aaron, and something passed between them a quick, almost imperceptible nod from Aaron, a shy but excited grin from Spencer.

It was fleeting, but you caught it, and it sent a curious thrill through you. Were they… in on something? The thought lingered, mixing with the warmth in your chest.

“Alright,” Aaron said, his voice taking on that commanding tone he used in briefings, but softened around the edges, more intimate. “I’ll start. But remember, anyone can tap out at any time. No pressure.” He directed his question at you first, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“Truth or dare?”

The room seemed to hold its breath. You felt a flush creep up your neck, but it was exciting, not uncomfortable. “Truth,” you said, opting for safety to start.

Aaron’s smile deepened slightly. “What’s the most unprofessional thought you’ve had about someone on the team?”

Straight to the heart of it. No easing in. But his tone was kind, encouraging, without a hint of judgment. Spencer leaned in a little closer, his curiosity evident, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You bit your lip, weighing your words, but the punch loosened your tongue. “Okay, fine. I’ve… wondered what it would be like to kiss Spencer. He’s got that adorable, awkward charm that just draws you in. Like, would he quote statistics mid-kiss or something?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he adjusted his glasses, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Really? Me?”

You nodded, laughing softly to diffuse the tension. “Yeah, you. Don’t act so surprised.”

Aaron nodded approvingly, his expression unreadable but not disapproving. “Good answer. Honest. Your turn now.”

The game picked up from there, the questions and dares starting light but gaining depth with each round. You dared Spencer to do his best impression of Morgan, which had him puffing out his chest and drawling, “Pretty boy, hand over the magnifying glass,” in a terrible accent that left you all in hysterics.

Spencer turned to Aaron with a truth: “What’s the one bureau rule you’ve bent the most?”

Aaron thought for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee. “Probably the one about not getting personally involved in cases. But you all know that.” His eyes flicked to Spencer, then to you, something heavier in his gaze.

When it circled back, Spencer chose dare for Aaron. “Kiss me,” he said, his voice steady but with a nervous edge, his eyes meeting Aaron’s without flinching.

The room went utterly still. Your breath caught in your throat, the air thick with anticipation. Aaron didn’t hesitate, didn’t question it. He stood smoothly, crossing the short distance to the couch.

Spencer tilted his head up, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, a mix of nerves and desire in his expression. Aaron cupped his face gently, his thumbs brushing along Spencer’s jawline with a tenderness that contrasted his usual stoicism. He leaned down, their lips meeting in a soft, exploratory kiss.

It started tentative lips brushing, testing then deepened as Spencer responded, his hands coming up to grip Aaron’s shoulders, pulling him closer. A low hum escaped Spencer, vibrating against Aaron’s mouth as their tongues met, slow and deliberate.

You watched, transfixed, heat blooming in your core. It was beautiful, intimate, the way Aaron’s hand slid into Spencer’s hair, guiding without forcing, and how Spencer’s body relaxed into it, submissive yet eager.

When they parted, both breathing a little heavier, Aaron’s eyes were darker, pupils dilated. He straightened but didn’t move away, his hand lingering on Spencer’s cheek for a moment. “Your turn,” he said to you, his voice rougher than before, laced with something primal.

“Dare,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

Aaron’s smile was slow, knowing. “Join us.”

You didn’t need more encouragement. Leaning in, you kissed Spencer first his lips soft and warm, tasting faintly of the fruity punch and something uniquely him, like books and coffee.

He responded immediately, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling you closer with surprising confidence. His kiss was eager, exploring, his tongue tracing your lower lip before delving deeper.

Then Aaron was there, his hand gently turning your face toward him. His kiss was different firmer, more dominant, his mouth claiming yours with a controlled intensity that made your toes curl.

One hand cupped your neck, thumb stroking your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine. Spencer watched, his breath coming in short bursts, his hand still on your back.

The game blurred after that, the lines between truths, dares, and desires dissolving in the haze of alcohol and attraction. Dares turned to touches Spencer’s hand sliding tentatively onto your thigh, his fingers tracing light patterns that made you squirm.

Aaron’s fingers brushed Spencer’s collarbone, unbuttoning the top of his shirt with deliberate slowness.

Questions became whispers: “Have you ever thought about this with us?” from Aaron, his voice low and soothing, directed at both of you.

“Yes,” Spencer admitted, his voice breathy, his eyes flicking between you and Aaron. “More than once. With both of you. It’s… it’s been a fantasy.”

“Me too,” you confessed, the words tumbling out. “Seeing you two together like that… it’s hot.”

Aaron stood then, pulling Spencer up with him in a fluid motion. “Then let’s make it real,” he said, his tone firm but gentle, always the leader. “But only if you’re both sure. We can stop anytime. No judgments, no regrets.”

You both nodded, the air charged with consent and excitement. Aaron guided Spencer to his knees in front of the couch, where you remained seated, watching with wide eyes.

“Show her how good you are, Spencer,” Aaron murmured, his hand in Spencer’s hair as he unbuckled his belt with the other.

Spencer’s eyes met yours, a mix of shyness and determination shining through. He looked up at Aaron with reverence, then focused on the task.

Aaron’s pants slid down, revealing his hardening arousal. Spencer took him in hand first, stroking slowly, his touch confident despite the flush on his face. Then his mouth followed lips wrapping around the tip, tongue swirling in lazy circles.

Aaron groaned softly, his head tilting back slightly, hand tightening in Spencer’s curls. “That’s it, pretty boy. Just like that. Take your time.”

You shifted on the couch, your dress feeling too constricting, thighs pressing together to ease the ache building between them.

The sight was mesmerising Spencer’s cheeks hollowing as he took Aaron deeper, his movements rhythmic and devoted. He was submissive to Aaron, following the gentle tugs on his hair, the quiet praises falling from Aaron’s lips like rewards.

“Good boy, Spencer. You’re making me feel so good. Look at her watching you she’s enjoying the show.”

Spencer’s free hand reached for you, sliding under the hem of your dress, fingers tracing up your thigh until they found your panties. He teased the edge, then dipped inside, circling your clit with expert precision. You moaned, the sound escaping unbidden, your hand clutching the couch cushion.

“See what you’re doing to her?” Aaron said, his voice like velvet over steel. “Keep going.”

Spencer’s rhythm faltered only slightly as he multitasked, his fingers delving deeper, circling your clit you while his mouth worked Aaron. The dual sensations watching them, feeling Spencer’s touch had you arching, your breaths coming in gasps.

Aaron pulled back eventually, his chest heaving, eyes dark with need. “Enough for now. Your turn to feel good,” he said, his gaze locking on you.

He knelt between your legs, pushing your dress up to your hips with careful hands. Spencer moved to sit beside you, his lips finding your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there as Aaron hooked his fingers in your panties, sliding them down your legs slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Beautiful,” Aaron murmured, his breath hot against your inner thigh. He leaned in, his tongue tracing your folds in a long, slow lick that made you shudder. “Taste so sweet. Relax for me.”

Spencer whispered in your ear, his voice husky. “You like that? Aaron’s mouth on you, making you feel this way?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hand threading through Spencer’s hair as Aaron’s tongue delved deeper, sucking gently on your clit. Pleasure built in waves, coiling tight in your belly.

Aaron’s hands held your thighs open, his touch firm but soothing, his hums of approval vibrating against you. His fingers easily slipping into your cunt and finding that spot that makes you see stars.

Your head falls back in pleasure as both men’s hands work at you. Spencer’s hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your dress, thumb circling your nipple. “You’re so responsive. Come for him. Let us hear you.”

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body trembling, moans spilling from your lips as Aaron lapped you through it, his tongue gentle now, drawing out every aftershock. “That’s it, good girl,” he praised, lifting his head with a satisfied smile.

They helped you stand after, hands steady and reassuring. Clothes came off in a slow, deliberate strip your dress pooling at your feet, Spencer’s coat and shirt discarded, revealing his lean, surprisingly toned frame.

Aaron’s suit followed, his body strong and commanding. Their touches were polar opposite Spencer’s fingers tentative but eager on your skin, Aaron’s confident and guiding.

Aaron directed Spencer to lie back on the couch, pulling you astride him. “Ride him,” he instructed you softly. “Show me how you take him.”

Spencer blushed but guided you down, his length. Already achingly hard and leaking at the tip, He held your hips filling you inch by inch as you sank onto him. He groaned, hands tightening on your hips. “God, you feel amazing. So tight.”

“o-oh god” You whimpered, the feeling of spencer filling you up was something you never thought would happen but always did wish.

You rocked gently at first, finding a rhythm, the fullness making you moan, your hands resting on his chest, Spencer thrust up to meet you, his dominance emerging fingers digging into your skin, guiding your pace.

“That’s it, take what you need. Ride me harder.”

Aaron watched, stroking himself lazily, his eyes hungry. Watching how you moved on spencer. Watching how spencer reacted. Blushing and moaning as he looked up at you.

Then he joined, not being able to wait any longer. Aaron wanted to try something kneeling behind you on the couch. “Ready for more? For both of us?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes. Please.” were you nervous of course. But you could tell with the way Aaron’s hand ran over the swell of your ass he was trying to relax you. And it worked.

Spencer stilled as Aaron prepared you fingers slick with lube from his desk drawer he’d grabbed earlier stretching you carefully, soothingly. With one finger…then two. “Relax, we’ve got you. Breathe through it.”

The initial pressure was intense, but Aaron’s voice grounded you. “You’re doing so well. Feel how full you’re going to be.”

He entered slowly, Pushing in only half to begin with. His cock thick and long the sensation overwhelming two of them inside you, stretching, filling. You moaned loudly, a keening sound, your body adjusting to the double penetration.

“Shh it’s okay…Feel good?” Spencer asked, his hands stroking your sides.

“So full… so good,” you whimpered, starting to move tentatively. The fullness was still overwhelming but both men’s hands on you soothing you made it better.

“Fuck,” Spencer groaned, feeling Aaron through the thin wall separating them. “I can feel you both…”

They found a rhythm Aaron’s thrusts deep and controlled from behind, Spencer’s responding beneath you. Dirty talk wove through the air Aaron’s “Such a good girl, taking us both like this. You’re perfect for us,” low and encouraging. Spencer’s “You’re squeezing me so tight, Feels so good.”

Aaron deep and steady, Spencer snapping his hips up to meet you. Their hands were everywhere Aaron’s on your breasts, Spencer’s gripping your ass, guiding you down harder.

Pleasure built to a fever pitch, your cries echoing in the office as another orgasm ripped through you, clenching around them. Shaking with the intensity.

“Fuck—just like that. Look at you,” Aaron growled against your neck. “Taking us both so perfectly. Our good girl.” he groaned as he felt you clenching around spencer and subsequently him, His hands on your waist as he continued to thrust into you.

Spencer’s voice was wrecked. “So tight… you’re squeezing me so hard… gonna come inside you soon—”

Aaron let out an affectionate laugh but was cut of by a groan as his release followed after a few more thrusts. He held you tightly to him. His forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

The quiet in Aaron’s office was profound after the intensity, broken only by the soft sounds of breathing slowing, bodies shifting on the couch. You lay between them, your head on Spencer’s chest, Aaron’s arm draped over your waist from behind.

The air smelled of sweat and sex, mingled with the faint pumpkin spice from outside his office door a reminder of the party’s innocence compared to what had just transpired. No one spoke for a long moment, content to bask in the warmth, the connection.

Spencer was the first to break the silence, his voice soft and a little hesitant, true to his nature. Talking fast and nervous “That was… incredible. I mean, I’ve read about poly dynamics in psychology journals, but experiencing it is different. The endorphin release alone—”

Aaron chuckled, the sound rumbling against your back. “Reid, not everything needs analysis right now.” But there was affection in his tone, his hand squeezing Spencer’s shoulder over you.

You smiled, tracing lazy patterns on Spencer’s skin. “He’s right, though. It was amazing. I didn’t expect… this. But I’m glad it happened.”

Aaron pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Me too. We’ve all been under so much stress. This was a release we needed.” His voice was calm, reassuring, the leader even in intimacy.

They helped you dress eventually, hands lingering, touches turning affectionate rather than heated. Spencer buttoned the back of your dress with careful fingers, his eyes meeting yours with a shy smile. Aaron straightened his tie, watching you both with a fond expression. The office felt different now less a workspace, more a shared secret.

As you all headed out, locking up behind you, the bullpen was dark and empty. “See you Monday?” Aaron asked, his car keys jingling.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Spencer said, and you nodded, the promise of more hanging in the air.