#reformat

“Do you think you would be up for trying something new tonight?” Aaron asks Sophie as they get into the elevator to head home, and the question sends a hot flash of arousal through her, strong enough to make her want to rub her thighs together for friction.

“Sure,” she answers easily, not wanting to sound too eager. While he likes it when she’s falling all over herself to get to him, she finds a little joy in the chase. “What did you have in mind?”

“Role-playing, kind of,” he begins, and she’s already sold. It hadn’t been an interest for either of them at the start of their relationship, but as they got more comfortable with each other, they both hinted at maybe trying in the future, and it seems they both have plenty of ideas. “You would still be you and I would still be me… it’s the situation that would change.”

“Mmm. What’s the situation?” He slips his hand into her back pocket, holding her close to him in the otherwise empty elevator.

“Well—if it sounds stupid, let me know and we can figure something else out, but I was thinking: someone has filed a complaint about you. About your attire. You’ve been dressing inappropriately for the office.” She hums, leans back against the wall of the elevator.

“I like where this is going. Tell me more?”

“I call you into my office to discuss the complaint. I need to see for myself what has everyone so distracted. Maybe you need to be punished, or maybe you just need some special attention from the boss.” Oh, yeah, he’s hitting some sweet spots with this one: sex in his office and fun with power dynamics never fails to get them both going. Her heart races as they step off the elevator into the parking garage.

“What do you want me to wear, Aaron?” He looks down at her, tongue sweeping over his lips, so she carries on. “This sounds like a very specific fantasy, so I know you have something in mind.”

“Those tight black pants I like. A tank top—white, one of those cropped ones. Boots.”

“What kind of panties? Should I wear panties?” He’s really turned on now, his voice sounding strained, tense when he answers.

“Yes. Whatever you would normally wear with the pants.”

“Should I wear a bra?”

“No bra.”

“Hmm. Sounds like my tits are getting me into trouble,” she murmurs, loves how much he loves her boobs even though she’s self-conscious about them sometimes, since they’re smaller. He knows they’re sensitive, a great source of pleasure for her when they’re touched, kissed, and never fails to include them in foreplay.

“Sophie,” he all but whines, and she smirks to herself, already having fun teasing him. They climb into the car, and it’s clear he is in a hurry to get them home, get this fantasy started. She finds it incredibly hot, because he usually shows more restraint out of the two of them, but this has him a little frantic.

“This sounds really sexy, honey. I’m already wet,” she tells him, and she shifts a little in her seat, giving him a visual to go with it. He flicks his eyes over her body, then remembers to focus on the road.

“God, yeah, of course you are. Always wet for me.” She hums, thinks of a few other things she could do to tease him a bit, but thinks it’s better if they focus on getting home safely so they can get down to business.

The rest of the ride is silent, tense with how aroused they both are, and when they get upstairs in the apartment, they throw down their bags and kiss, hurried, hands all over each other.

“I need to change real quick… Good thing, too, since my panties are soaked,” she adds, and he trails lips across her jaw.

“Mmm. Going to ruin another pair if all goes well. Do you want me to wear something specific?”

“That’s really up to you, as my superior, isn’t it? You have…” She drags a hand down his chest, his stomach, and over his straining erection. “All the power.” He groans, and she steps back, runs her eyes hotly over his body. “Take your jacket off and you’re perfect. I love the way this shirt fits you.” He pulls the garment off like it offends him, throws it on the couch, and smirks.

“Go get changed,” tells her, voice low and sexy. She heads for the bedroom, but turns back when he speaks again. “Oh, and Sophie? I’ll be in my office.”

“You wanted to see me, Hotch?” She tries to sound like herself, but a little naïve, and she has to work so hard not to smile at Aaron’s—Hotch’s—furrowed brows.

“Please shut the door, Agent Cortes.” His desk at home looks a lot like his desk at the office: heavy, wood, a hot mess, covered in case files and forms—doesn’t look like the FBI is going paperless any time soon—so all in all a very similar feel to his actual office, which is fun. She closes the door as instructed and walks toward the center of the room.

“Have I done something wrong?” He looks up with a sigh, drops his pen, and rubs the bridge of his nose, which is exactly what he would do in a situation like this in real life. It’s almost eerie.

“Frankly, someone has filed a complaint against you. I’ve asked you here to determine your culpability so we can move forward with a reprimand if necessary.” Her eyes get hard, her jaw set with irritation, the way she imagines she’d react to someone complaining about her, and she crosses her arms.

“What is the complaint about?” His eyes fall to her chest—crossing her arms has probably put a little emphasis on the stars of this show—and he clears his throat.

“A few of your colleagues have mentioned that your attire has been… distracting, lately.” He’s still looking at her chest, which is cute, makes her want to tease him, but she tries to keep her head in the game.

“All due respect, but if a man can’t focus on work because he’s distracted by a woman, it sounds like the man’s problem, not the woman’s.” He looks up at her face quickly and chuckles at that, likely at the fact that even in a fantasy about her boobs out at the office, she is a feminist.

“I agree completely, Agent Cortes. That’s why I decided to take matters into my own hands, see what all the fuss is about.” He stands and walks around the desk, leaning casually against the front of it so he’s closer to her. “Maybe we can resolve this without anyone getting written up.”

“I would prefer that, but if I’m doing something wrong, I want to know.”

“I won’t hesitate to tell you if you’re being inappropriate. Will you do the same for me?” Even a year into their relationship, he is still always giving her an out—his need for enthusiastic consent is one of the sexiest things about him.

“Yes, sir,” she assures, making eye contact, and his lips twitch in a smile, ever so briefly, before returning to Hotch face.

“Good. First I would like you to turn around for me, slowly.” She licks her lips, because fuck, that’s hot, and she spins in a slow circle, stopping when he places a hand on her hip, her ass facing him. “Are you wearing panties, Agent?”

“Yes, sir,” she murmurs, and his warm hand moves to her ass, squeezing softly. He runs his hand over her right cheek, then her left, and then between them, teasing.

“Hmm. It doesn’t look like it, doesn’t feel like it.”

“They’re meant to be that way. No panty lines. Would you like me to show you them?” Her throat feels dry, because she really wants him to take her pants down, but it’s clear he’s far from ready for that so soon.

“Not necessary just yet. Keep turning for me, please.” She spins until she’s back where she started, facing him, and his eyes darken when he takes in her flushed chest, her stiff nipples that strain against the tiny tank top; it’s got to look indecent, probably exactly how he pictured it, and she suppresses a moan. He’s got her just where he wants her, and god does she want to be there. “This is what you wore into the office today?”

“I had on a jacket, but it’s hot downstairs. AC’s broken again,” she adds for realism, because that damn thing is always on the fritz. He takes his chin in his hand like he’s thinking, and she finds his acting ridiculously sexy. Role playing, she decides, definitely has a place in their bedroom (or office, or living room, or kitchen… etc).

“Are you cold now?” he asks, because her nipples are so hard they could cut glass, she assumes, and she shakes her head.

“No, sir, I’m… hot.” She hooks a finger into the neck of the top, adjusting it like she’s looking for some relief, some airflow. He licks his lips, eyes flicking from her mouth to her chest like he can’t decide where to focus his gaze, and she feels powerful, and sexy, in control.

Of course, that doesn’t last long.

“Put your hand down, please, Cortes. I need to determine if your top is inappropriate.” Her hand falls immediately, her body practically hardwired to obey at this point, and he smirks, the gorgeous prick. “Thank you. Step closer to me.”

She does as she’s asked, until they are almost toe to toe; she wants to feel his chest pressed against hers in the worst way, but again, he’s not quite ready to give her what she wants.

(He will, eventually. He always does. But not until he’s had a little fun first, until he ruins her panties as promised, until she’s so horny that she’d hump his leg if it’s all he offered.)

“Are you wearing a bra?” She has to snap her attention back to his face, thoughts drifting a bit, though always about him. Still, he likes to see that she’s focused.

“No, sir, I’m not wearing a bra.” He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, and she fights the urge to lean in and lick him, bite him. Her eyes drift down to his crotch absentmindedly, and she sucks in a breath at how hard he is, the outline of his cock visible through the gray suit pants he wears.

“Any particular reason for that?”

“No particular reason. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.” She looks up at his face again, expecting admonishment for her flippant tone, but instead he reaches out a hand, brushes the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. She shivers at his touch, feels her nipples tighten even more, and then he slips his thumb over one bud, pinching it through the tank top. She moans loudly, not expecting him to just go for it, but the feeling of his hands finally where she wants them (one of the places she wants them) is so good she’s just proud she didn’t whimper.

“You see why it’s risky, Agent:” he murmurs, looking into her eyes, and yes, she does, she does, “a man should be in control of himself at all times, especially in the workplace, but some things are just so tempting.” He moves his hand to the other nipple, this time twisting a little, and she moans again. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, Hotch,” she breathes, and she licks her lips, fights to keep her hands at her sides. “I understand.”

“Good girl.” His praise goes straight to her pussy, just like he knows it will, and he takes his hand away. “I think you did have a reason for not wearing a bra today. I think you were hoping to catch the attention of one man in particular.”

“Did I catch his attention?” she asks, voice trembling, looking up at him through her lashes in a way she knows will drive him crazy, and he bends swiftly for a deep, wet kiss, lots of tongue, lots of moaning. When he pulls back, it’s not by much, and he sucks a covered nipple into his mouth, earning high, short sounds of pleasure that fall from her lips without intent. Her fingers slip into his hair, encouraging the attention, and he moves to the other nipple, nibbling so deliciously that her eyes almost roll back in her head.

“Do you want me?” His voice is low, rough, like gravel, when he pulls away, and she is panting, wet, her head swimming from all the sensation. She tries to make sense of his question, frowns. “Do you want me, Agent Cortes?” he repeats, clarifying, and she remembers that they’re role-playing, that this is supposed to be the first time his mouth has been on her body and not the thousandth. She nods, desperate, hungry.

“I want you, Hotch. God, I want you.” He pulls her sharply toward him with a hand on her ass, pressing her back against the desk; pushing up her top, he palms her right breast, squeezing and kneading and plucking her nipple so that she groans, helpless to do anything but be felt up by him, no friction between her legs where she needs it.

His hands are so big and strong, hairy, that the sight and feel of one on her chest always amps up her pleasure, makes her so turned on that she can’t help the sounds she makes, and when he traces the ridges of her nipple with his index finger she shudders, curses.

“Mmm, you’re so responsive. Can you get off just from this? Is that why you’ve been displaying them for me, in the briefing room, the bullpen, my office? Because you want me to squeeze them and suck them and bite them until you come in your panties?” He moves his other hand from her ass to her bare breast and pinches her nipple, rolls it in his palm, a string of whimpers and curses falling out of her mouth.

“Yes, sir, please, I want to come in my panties.” He rewards her with another long, passionate kiss, pressing his hips against her so she can feel his erection, and she is panting when they part, wants to open his pants and get on her knees for him—but she knows his orgasm isn’t the first thing on his mind right now, that his dick won’t even make an appearance until she’s come at least once, more likely twice.

He dips his head to lick a nipple, his mouth hot, and she arches her back, pushing her breasts against his face. The resulting groan is a low rumble she can feel, and he sucks on the same nipple, teasing the other; all she can do is release a constant stream of open mouthed, breathless moans and tilt her head back, putting her throat on display. His mouth moves along the column, kissing her hard, damp, and he presses his lips to hers, his mouth soft and warm and wet.

He switches to the other side, sucking her soft mound into his mouth, his fingers pulling at her abandoned nipple, and he twists it just right, so that she’s almost seeing stars, it feels so good; “yes, Hotch,” slips from her mouth, and her hands move to his waist, determined to be active participants, which he allows.

“That feels good, doesn’t it? I bet they’ve been aching, wanting my mouth and hands on them for days. Did you think I didn’t notice?”

“I was hoping that you would, sir, but you never looked twice. I was getting, hmm, desperate.” It’s almost hard to keep up the dialogue with how hot her skin is, how thick her tongue feels in her mouth, but she does her best.

“I’m your unit chief, your supervisor, Cortes. I’m not supposed to be looking at your tits,” and she whines, because he doesn’t say tits, like, ever and she should have known it would be awesome when he finally did. Both of his hands are engaged, rubbing her nipples in unison, rhythmically, and it makes her think of his fingers on her clit, how he always knows when to make small, tight circles or slower, wider ones, whatever she needs at that moment. She wishes for some friction there, though she knows this will be as good if not better.

“Are you supposed to be touching them?” she asks, biting her bottom lip, and his hands move faster, rougher, pressing and pulling and making her groan. “Ah, are you supposed to be getting me off?”

“I am allowed to use my discretion to formulate an individual action plan in order to keep you focused and efficient at your job. You are clearly unfocused,” he murmurs, and her eyes slide up to his from where they were trained on his mouth, “and if providing you with an orgasm will remedy that, I’m well within the scope of my duties.”

Fuck, she loves how it sounds when Hotch words come out of Aaron’s mouth, and she closes her eyes for a moment, licks her lips.

“I don’t think I’ll really be able to focus until I see your cock,” she tries, needy for it. “I’ve been fantasizing about it at my desk, thinking of how thick it would be, how hot in my hands, or… mouth.” He leans down suddenly and bites at a nipple, hard, and she whines until he releases it, smooths over it with his tongue. He looks up at her from chest-height, eyes hard.

“I am in charge here, Agent. It would be in your best interest not to forget it again.”

She swears her brain short-circuits, and she gets wetter, if that’s possible, wants him to bend her over the desk and fuck her, dominate her every way he knows how. Her voice, when she manages to find it, is barely a whisper.

“Yes, sir. I won’t forget it again.”

“Good girl.” She stares at him, chest heaving, unblinking, and he leans up for a sweet, gentle kiss before lifting her up and setting her ass on the desk. “I’m going to make you come, and then I want to see those panties, understood?”

“Yes, Hotch.” He kisses her again and dips down to suck on a nipple, pinching and rolling the other until she is moaning, high, needy, her hand in his hair. “Oh, yes, Hotch, please.”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lifting off, and he swaps sides, his fingers twisting the wet nipple and his teeth grazing the other. She tenses, pants, her breath coming quicker, and when he bites down it’s over and she’s coming hard, trembling, mouth falling open in a wordless moan.

It lasts longer than her orgasms usually do, but when she’s done he leans up and kisses her slowly, his hands falling to hold her hard at the waist. “God, you’re spectacular,” he breathes against her lips, and she wraps her arms around him, keeping him close.

“Thank you,” she whispers, when they shift out of the embrace, her voice scraped raw from all the moaning. “Thank you for making me come, sir.” His eyes flash hot, and she hopes for a quick recovery so she can do whatever it is he’s planned for them next, as soon as possible.

“It was my sincere pleasure, Agent. I hate to see a member of my team in distress.” She swallows, her eyes roaming over his body, wanting to peel off his shirt and push down his pants and worship every single part of him… but it’s clear he has other plans. “Do you remember what you promised you would do now?”

“Yes. I said I would show you my panties.” She makes to slide off the desk, but her feet are a little unsteady when she lands; his arms tighten around her waist instinctively. “Thank you, sorry.” He pulls her to him, kisses her warmly.

“No need to be sorry. Do you need help taking off your pants?” She doesn’t, but the thought of him on his knees for her is a good one, so she nods.

His hands are steady as he pops the button on her pants, but when he kneels, pushes them down to reveal her strappy, barely-there thong—not exactly what she’d usually wear with the pants, but something she knows will make him salivate—he exhales against her thigh, his breath ragged.

Carefully as ever, he pulls off her boots, shimmies her pants down her legs, helping her step out of them, and when she feels the air hit her damp crotch she spreads her legs a little so he can see.

“My, my. These aren’t very functional, are they?” he rasps, running his hands over the straps that partially cover her hips, snapping one lightly against her skin, and she shivers slightly.

“No sir, I guess not.” He shifts closer to her, still hugging her hips, and presses his nose right to the middle of her panties, then his mouth, and she moans, clutches at his desk for support in case her knees give out. “Hotch,” she breathes, and he moves his lips so that the silky, soaked fabric glides easily over her pussy.

“You’re so wet,” he practically purrs, “You must have been thinking about this for a while now.”

“Yes, too long.” She wants to rub her thighs together, or to buck against his face, but she keeps perfectly still, legs quaking with effort and her earlier release. “Even after that amazing orgasm… I don’t really feel relief.” He looks up at her then, all dark eyes and hair, and he tisks, tapping his fingers against her hips.

“Well we can’t have that, Agent. There are two avenues we could explore next: I could lick your dripping pussy until you come all over my face, or I could get you off with my fingers, feel you clench tight around them when you climax. What would you prefer?”

Her throat goes dry, her pussy throbbing with need, and she opens her mouth, tries to respond, but she just can’t. He waits a moment, so patient even though his cock is bulging and has been for quite some time. “I need an answer, Cortes,” he instructs, stern, and she swallows, licks her lips.

“Can I have both, sir? If it’s not too much trouble; I don’t want to be greedy.”

“Yes, you can have both. It is greedy, but I’m feeling indulgent today.” He slips his hands past the band of her underwear, then pulls back, thinking twice. “Turn around for a moment, please.” She exhales roughly, turns so that she’s facing his desk chair and the bookcase behind it, and she feels him slide her underwear down, feels them hit the floor around her feet. “Your ass has caught my attention as much as your breasts, if I’m being honest. So tight, perky.” He palms her cheeks, spreads them a little, and leans in to lick at her slit. “God, you taste good.”

“Mmm, thank you, sir,” she manages, barely, and he dives back in, licking quick and deep, making her moan, shudder. “Oh, yes, Hotch.”

His mouth is unrelenting, his lips teasing hers, tongue flicking over her opening, and she clutches at the desk, white knuckles, panting like she’s just gotten back from a run. He pulls back after a few moments, spins her around without warning, strong hands moving her body, and it takes her breath away in the best way. “Up on the desk,” he guides, laying her back and spreading her thighs, and she lets him do what he wants, revels in it, hair fanning out over the folders and files on his desk.

He rolls up his sleeves, dark hair jutting out from under the crisp white shirt, and his eyes roam her body, focusing especially on her bare breasts, her trembling stomach, her shiny wet pussy; his gaze is softer when it reaches her face, and he leans in for a kiss, humming against her lips.

“My plan, when we’re done here,” he says as he stands, nonchalantly, like she’s not three quarters naked on his desk with her legs spread, “is for more one-on-one sessions. Weekly, maybe. I think that’s the only way to remedy the situation, don’t you?”

“Whatever you think is best, sir,” she answers quickly, licking her lips at the thought. “You’re the boss.”

It was the perfect thing to say, because his eyes darken and he leans over her, pushing two fingers into her pussy, agonizingly slow. “Yes, I am.”

The next few minutes pass by in a blur of pleasure. He fucks into her smooth, steady, and even though she’s already come once and she’s thoroughly turned on, it feels like he’s filling her, like another finger would be too much. He alternates between thumbing her clit and massaging her breasts as his hand works to bring her to climax, and she repeats oh and Hotch like it’s all she knows how to say.

This time it feels like she’s chasing her orgasm, like it’s eluding her, and she’s not sure if it’s because of all of the sensations, or that she can’t get there because she’s too horny, but a frustrated groan falls out of her mouth. He leans in, hand frozen on an in stroke, and kisses her a couple of times.

“Does it hurt?” he murmurs, knowing over-stimulation can get the best of her sometimes. She shakes her head.

“No, I just… I can’t get off. I can’t, but I want to.” She tries to convey trust, love, need, with her gaze, and he kisses her again, softly.

“Do you want me to go grab a vibrator?”

She thinks about that, for a moment, grateful for the suggestion, that he’s not afraid to admit that a toy could be beneficial, but decides it kind of depends on the rest of his plans.

“I think I could get off with you inside me, but if you had something else in mind, the vibrator might help.” More gentle kisses, and he slowly removes his fingers, running a hand over her stomach.

“Okay. Uh…” He squints a little, like he’s thinking, maybe trying to get back into the scene, and she takes pity on him, stretches her body, whines.

“I’m having trouble focusing. I know what would help me focus, if you think I earned it.” She pulls on his tie, bringing him closer, and murmurs over his lips. “Fill me up, Hotch. Put your big, hard cock inside me and show me all my efforts to catch your attention weren’t for nothing. Remind me who my boss is.” That flips his switch, and he pulls a condom out of his pocket, unbuckles his belt with quick hands.

“If you need reminding, we might have to up those sessions to twice a week, until you learn your place.” He pulls out his cock, rolls the condom over it, and sinks inside her so fast it’s dizzying. “And your place, Agent Cortes, is under me.”

His thrusts are smooth, rhythmic, not rough but fast, and he holds her tight around the ribs while she pants, moans. She can’t deny that laying flat against his desk, practically naked with her knees hitched up, while he stands, practically fully clothed and looking like her boss, is extremely satisfying, and it doesn’t take long for her to reach that place that begs for just a little more.

She moves her hand between them, to rub at her clit, and he puts his hands on her breasts, squeezes them roughly, his breathing labored. “So close for me again. I think I’m going to make you my special project.” She moans at his words, closes her eyes, extends her neck. “I need you at peak performance, so we’re going to have to practice quite a bit. Long nights, weekends.” One hand shifts up, hovering over her exposed throat, and she opens her eyes, feels his burning down on her. “Do I have your commitment?” he asks, flexing his fingers, and he’s really asking for permission to do the one thing guaranteed to make her lose it.

“Yes, yes, you have my commitment,” she pants, and he brings his hand down on her neck, squeezing the sides with strong, careful fingers. He thrusts continuously, rubbing her tits with his free hand, and she quickens her pace on her clit, bouncing against him and moaning like it’s her damn job; she feels her face heat, and her breathing becomes rough, and the instant he releases his hold she comes, doesn’t stop coming until he’s filling the condom inside her, groaning and sweeping his hands up and down her body.

She is a wrecked and ruined mess, light-headed, muscles trembling, and he pulls out of her, ties off the condom, and leans in to kiss her, decadent and filthy. He trails gentle fingers across her throat, tenderly brushes her face, and then pulls her up so she’s sitting, arms around his shoulders, breath against his chest.

“Well I think that was a successful discussion, don’t you, Agent?” he murmurs, and she huffs a laugh, looks up at him affectionately.

“Yes, sir. One of many, I hope.”

“You can count on it.”

A couple days later, she’s just about to leave the parking garage—Aaron has to stay a bit later, so they drove in separately—when her phone chimes with a text.

Remember, we have a session tonight, Agent Cortes. I hope you come prepared.

She thinks about going home, playing with a toy, maybe sending him a video for motivation, and smirks to herself before typing out a reply and starting her car.

Disclaimer - this is a reformat of a post that I previously posted.