welcome to the bakery

(stay with me now, i don't wanna be lonely / know how you feel by the way that you hold me)

at this point, putting anything on the tv felt redundant. you and spencer had a bad habit of abandoning whatever you finally decided on after thirty minutes anyway–your habit of spending fifteen minutes arguing whether or not you want to hear spencer recite something you’ve both already seen multiple times, had wormed its way into becoming a strange ritual of sorts.

maybe the background sound was comforting, in a white noise, keeping the atmosphere alive, type of way. or maybe you both just needed some sort of innocent excuse, a cover up for your cuddles before your wandering hands inevitably fell from the dark curls of his hair to the milky skin of his waist. 

the are you still watching? screen was usually present in all its knowing glory, blaring like some sort of evidence, proof that you in fact, got distracted just a little bit too easily. it wasn’t like you could be blamed, having a pretty boyfriend was tough. 

sleepovers had become your absolute favourite dates. sure, going out on dinner dates was nice, but was there really a point if spencer would end up in your bed by the end of the night, or vice versa? 

you could eat whatever you wanted, watch whatever you wanted–braless, for that matter, and you could kiss him at any given time, without any of his squirming due to an awkwardly persistent aversion to public displays of affection. 

for a lack of a better word, sleepovers were absolute perfection. 

especially when you were in spencer’s lap. 

your hands laced into his hair, gripping tight at the base of his scalp in that soft, tingly way that made his lips tremble in yours. with every gentle whine, you only pushed against him harder, deeper, as if you could somehow completely envelope him, slip inside him as he did to you. 

his hands moved from your waist, to lower, squeezing everything he could fit in his hands, as if he had the whole world there, taking and taking until there was nothing left. he loved your pajama shorts because they were soft, texture forgiving against his sensitive palms when he rubbed slow circles against your ass–and because it was very easy to slip sneaky fingers under the fabric. 

you separated from his flushed skin only to start pulling your cotton shirt over your head. typically, you made a show out of it, teasing as you dragged the material slowly against your burning skin, and spencer wouldn’t dare take his eyes off of you. 

but right now, his mind seemed to be somewhere else. 

you turned around to follow his gaze, eyes landing on the medical drama flashing across your tv screen. there was no way he was so worked up on inaccuracies and hipaa violations, that he wasn’t paying attention to the pair of tits that were practically in his face. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this while they’re watching.” 

you almost laughed as you cupped spencer’s rosy cheek in your gentle hand. 

“spence, the doctors on this show spend half of their time fucking anyway, i don’t think they’ll mind.”

he shook his head slowly, eyes darting up to yours to wordlessly judge the crudeness of your reply (he loved it,) before nodding in the direction of something else behind you. 

“no–not them, them.”

you followed his gaze for a second time, now landing on the sweet collection of stuffed animals sitting kindly at the foot of your bed. 

“you can’t be serious.” 

“i am!” 

spencer sat up straighter, forcing you to stiffen and adjust yourself on his thighs, in turn, pulling you off of his core and ripping away any friction. you weren’t too keen on the position change. 

“you don’t want to have sex with me because my teddy bears are watching?” 

he nodded yes once, then no, then yes again, and ran his fingers through his long hair while sighing. 

“i don’t appreciate the feeling of having extra eyes on me… yours are enough.” 

you really laughed this time, letting your forehead fall into the curve of his stiff shoulder as yours heaved with every giggle that escaped your chest. he was hilarious. 

“it’s never bothered you before!” 

“that was when the lights were off.”

who knew that the warm candles you’d lit to set the mood would backfire, not by setting anything ablaze, but because the ambient lighting was simply too bright?

“ok then, i’ll go blow out the candles.” 

he shook his head as you lifted your face from its hiding place against his skin,

“it’s no use now… i already know they’ll be watching…” 

you slapped his chest playfully, messing with the wrinkled collar of his patterned pajama set. 

“i’m starting to think you're coming up with excuses to not sleep with me, spence.” 

he looked at you like the mere idea was the biggest possible offense, wrapping his arms around your navel as he rested his chin on your chest–which would’ve been bare had he not paused your activities for a voyeuristic epiphany regarding your assembly of stuffed toys. 

“it just… it feels cruel, like we're tainting something pure, corrupting it.” 

you wouldn’t tell him, to allow hi to spare some semblance of peace of mind, but mr snuffles and friends had long been corrupted. but his concerns, albeit annoying, were sweet. 

“i’m sensing a double standard here.”

“really? how so?” 

sometimes with his cadence, it was almost hard to tell if he was genuinely questioning something, or just playing along with your teasing. either way, you liked to believe he was always at least somewhat authentically concerned. 

“your toys always watch us at your place… i swear that box thingy only lights up when i take my top off.” 

“they aren’t toys. they’re collectable figures! and the tardis is motion censored!” 

his voiced raised a few pitches, getting defensive as you pulled him down onto your floral patterned sheets. tangled in a yarn ball of limbs, you turned to face him, noses brushing as he face heated in adorable frustration. 

“you’re such a nerd.” 

you teased him as you brushed loose strands of his chestnut hair behind his ears. it somehow felt softer when you were laying like this, the same way his eyes felt impossibly rounder, like a thick pool of warm gold. 

“what does that make you, a nerd lover?”

“nope. i’m only with you because you’re tall and pretty.”

spencer scoffed in mock offense and rolled over, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. you couldn’t see his face anymore, but you knew he was wearing that stupid little cheeky smirk as he so often did. 

you flopped yourself over his side, going limp against his torso,

“spenceee i’m only kidding.” 

you moved up his body until your lips found the delicate skin of his neck, peppering kisses there until his grumpy facade crumbled into a fit of giggles. your kisses made their way up to his cheeks, spanning the width of his face and then moving onto his forehead, leaving no territory uncharted. 

“how about we compromise, hmm? you can help me flip all of my stuffies over so they can’t watch us.” 

he hummed as if he was mulling it over, interlocking his nimble fingers with yours, sheer size easily enveloping them. 

“wouldn’t they still be able to hear us?” 

if you weren’t entirely obsessed with how loud he was, you’d tell him he’d just have to be quiet. 

“do you want me to fuck you or not?” 

spencer only chuckled as he caught your lips in a quick, chaste kiss, completely contrasting your words and his current mindset. he then grabbed a pink unicorn plush, lovingly named admiral sparkles, and turned her head so she was facing the wall, front row seat view of the two of you now completely obscured. 

“this is going to take a while if i’m doing it all by myself.” 

you smiled as you leaned over, pressing a kiss onto the beauty mark adorning his jaw, before grabbing a pink bunny plush and flipping it around as well. 

with the way spencers hands slithers around your waist, pawing at the hem of your thin shorts, you weren’t sure if you’d get the chance to blind the rest of your audience before he was on top of you.

first, a startled register of his environment and then, a confused glance at the very naked girl draped over his body. his arms come up, hovering, sputtering, and then politely putting his palms over your shoulders. nudging you to look up at him.

jesus christ, those eyes. 

“hi.”

so quiet. “hey, handsome.”

he lets out a long, contemplative sigh, thinking, thinking, thinking. when does this guy ever stop thinking? “we kissed,” he says it like a fact, but with questioning lilt that makes it sound otherwise. 

you prop an elbow on the bed, joint wedged into the space above his shoulder so you can see him better. the blanket keeping you decent slips a bit and spencer unconsciously tucks it more securely under your arm. you catalogue that for later. 

“we did a lot more than that. forgive me for being untoward but we fucked,” you clarify, innocent with your chin in the heel of your palm.

spencer groans, he groans! “don't be crude.”

“we're naked.”

“i know that,” he murmurs, disgruntled, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your jaw and falling back into the pillow. you sport an amused little smile when you see the pout on his lips. 

you slept with spencer reid.

your coworker, your friend, the man you’d been terribly smitten with for who knows how long (7 months and 3 days.)

spencer reid who lingered by your side for hours last night, unassuming, unbothered, who smiled softly at your wine induced flush whenever he’d lean in to hear you better, who sat with you while you tipped your chin up at the sky to point out stars and asked him to name them, who pressed a sobering kiss to your lips in rossi's backyard after a clumsily delivered compliment.

you’re so pretty.

your response is a blur, forgotten, but you do remember how he drove you home with his hand idly playing with your fingers over the center console. how he tried but inevitably failed to be a gentleman as you led him up to your apartment, shared, hushed giggles echoing down the hallway and quite gracefully falling into bed leaving a very telling breadcrumb trail of clothes. 

and now, half a second of thought passes on whether you should ask him or surprise him. the latter wins and you dip down and kiss the corner of his mouth. you’re not evil, he deserves some warning before you really plant one on him. he wastes no time, bringing his lips to yours with those big hands cradling your face. 

his lips press against yours gingerly in a sweet, lingering kiss, followed by another and another. mouth slotted over yours, like perfect puzzle pieces, his tongue traces the seam of your lips and you grant him entrance, letting him gently lick into your mouth. you let out a small, needy sound at the warmth of his tongue against yours, melting into him. it makes him chuckle quietly.

“spence,” you gasp against his lips.

a subtle shudder makes its way down his spine at the desperation in your voice, the same need slowly fogging up his own brain, remnants of last night catching up. 

“i know, angel,” he cups your neck, what is happening?

“can i admit something?”

spencer smiles at you, boyish and stupid spread across his face, “please do.”

“you kiss nice, had i known you were this good of a kisser i would’ve done it ages ago,” you mumble, forcing words out to keep a sliver of your dignity.

he laughs again, a small pleased sound that makes you feel good. “you do too. you are wildly better than anything i have ever imagined–”

“you’ve imagined me?” you turn timid in a way that you hate but spencer kisses you and it melts away.

“of course i have. you’re wonderful.”

spencer pulls your leg over his and sits the two of you up, thighs bracketing his hips. the blanket falls unabashedly into the space between your bodies, pooled dangerously low over his lap. you thank whatever god there is for the enticing view of the scattering of light hair that trails beneath the covers.

you’re surprised with the ease in which spencer's hands drag down your sides, like he's done it a million times before. he pushes the pads of his thumbs into the area above your hipbone like he knows you’ll twitch when he does, and you do. damn his eidetic memory and damn his perfect mouth when he attaches his lips to your jaw, angling you as he lightly works the skin. he's careful enough not to leave a mark somewhere visible but it doesn't stop him from reminding himself he can do it elsewhere, somewhere more concealed.

“pretty girl,” he coos, kissing over your pulse point, below your ear, “lay back, please.” please. he murmurs against your skin, nodding behind you. he pecks your cheek, rather sweetly considering your state of undress and swiftly returns to your neck like he can’t believe he pulled away.

now wait.

you forget about your own hands through all of this, hanging limply over his right shoulder and heavy by your side. you thread your fingers into his hair and path something more devious for the other. spencer jolts when your fingertips graze over his cock, you’d think he’d expect it but he reacts like it's completely sudden. it scares you momentarily, were you too forward? but then he looks at you with something beggy and glazed over in his eyes and it motivates you to ease the shelter of the blanket fully off, baring him.

spencer pinks, tips of his ears to the top of his chest. you inch off his lap and sit in front of him. you watch the features in his face twist into realisation and cut him off before he can say something polite, "i wanna taste you, spence.”

you’ve stunned spencer reid. for the first time in his fucking life he doesn’t know what to say. so he pushes out a, “yeah? fuck, okay. yeah.” an embarrassing stutter of words but it's enough to reassure you. 

a firm finger pokes him square in the chest, not so hard that it hurts but enough to have him lean back against the headboard. he follows dutifully, letting the pillows take him, allowing him some semblance of solid ground beneath him. because he's convinced he might pass out at the sight of you settling between his outstretched legs, looking sinfully unaware of just how much you affect him.

although the effect itself becomes glaringly obvious when his cock twitches, two pairs of eyes darting down immediately. you can't tell if he's bigger than what you remember from last night, but you do know that you want him in your mouth immediately.

your head dips down, a slow hand curling around the base of his length, guiding it to your lips. the head, flushed and red, meets soft and plush, a light kiss against him. and spencer thinks he might die. your lips part, taking the tip into your mouth, tongue laving against his slit. your eyes flutter shut when a bead of precum settles over your tastebuds, slightly salty. you glide down, the weight of him in your mouth is deliriously good.

at some point between drawing back and swirling your tongue around his tip, spencer tangles his hands in your hair. fingertips soft over your scalp, he doesn't push, just holds you. your head bobs down again, forming a steady rhythm. your eyes start to water when he nudges at the back of your throat, breath faltering as the hair low on his stomach begins to tickle your nose. he immediately pulls you off with a gentle hand fixed to your jaw.

“you don’t have to do it all.” the concern in his eyes is sickening as he wipes off the saliva smeared to the corner of your mouth. you smile at him, a little sheepish, tilting into his palm. “i know.”

you press a kiss to his wrist and return to the task at hand, cock standing proud over his abdomen and possibly redder than when you left it. you lean down, letting a little dribble of spit fall from your lips to his length. decidedly, you wrap your fingers around him, letting the saliva act as a lubricant. you press a thumb to a vein running along the side of his cock, tracing it with every up and down of your hand. he lets out a shuddering exhale in response. 

you hope the look you give him is sultry at best, you don't know that his vision is starting to blur at the corners when your head dips down again. only to mouth at the tip this time, a sloppy makeout around the flushed head as your hand continues to work at the rest of him.

“god, angel. you’re so-” he cuts himself off with a moan when your wrist twists. “so good at that.”

you let the words get to your head, a burning heat that creeps up your neck. emboldened, you take more of him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you go. spencer can't help the way his hips buck up and you almost gag again. you pull off with a breathless giggle, wiping your mouth while spencer regards you with that same sickening concern, except now there's guilt in his comforting touch when he inspects your face. he doesn’t find this funny at all.

you hold his wrist as you laugh again and put on your most reassuring voice, "i'm okay.”

a skeptical purse of his lips. you gravitate forward, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “i promise,” you whisper, followed by a nip at his skin. it elicits a gasped sound from the depths of his chest.

he pulls you into a kiss, relishing in the ever so slight taste of him on your lips as he turns the two of you around, you let him lay you down this time. the moment feels kismet when his fingers trail lower. one hand keeping him propped up and the other parting your folds. you're unbelievably wet, the lingering effects of last night and spencer on your tongue leaving you as much.

“oh, spencer.” your hips rise to his touch when he dips a finger into your entrance and he's immediately determined to make you say his name like that again. the way you gush around him as his finger curls up allows him to add another one to the mix. you think he’s ruined you forever with how fast the peak builds, a heavy, honey-like pressure pushing down on your stomach as his fingers move, relentless between your thighs. you stop him before he can put his thumb to your clit with an urgent gasp, knowing that if you come now you won’t be able to keep going, “fuck me.” swallow, “please.”

spencer pulls his fingers out, kissing your chin when your head tips back at the emptiness. he can't help the tug at the corner of his lips, eyes possibly filled with too much affection when your thighs give a needy squeeze around his hips. “i got you,” he whispers, pulling you closer with two firm hands at your hips. 

he pushes in, and it's an easy fit, you’ve been ready for what feels like forever. but where he lacks in overwhelming thickness he makes up for in length so it truly just keeps going. your hands brace at his side when he finally bottoms out. “i swear you weren’t this big,” you huff against his shoulder, almost exasperated. 

spencer laughs, though it skirts the edge of something aching, “ha-ah, you’re boosting my ego, sweetheart.”

“good,” you hum, eyebrows pinching when he begins to move. your walls flutter around him, adjusting, you don’t know how you took it last night without his rearranging you from the inside out. “you’re so- feels so good, spence.”

he whines into your neck, the speed of his hips increasing with every subsequent clench around his cock, he doesn’t know if he can handle this much praise. lewd noises fill the room, moans and flush inducing wet squelches echoing off the walls and forming into something tangible between your bodies. it's not enough, something's missing, you need him even closer. 

“baby, wait. flip me over.”

baby.

he hesitates before turning your body under his. upon re-entering you, it all clicks into place. you melt in satisfaction, cheek smushed against the pillow with your mouth stupidly hanging open. he gives an experimental roll of his hips, slow and deliberate, hitting places you never deemed possible.

“there?” he asks when you simultaneously mumble an incoherent y-uhuh, there, he lays over you and starts fucking you into the sheets.

his chest molds perfectly to your back, head fitted somewhere between your shoulders with his lips attached to the nape of your neck. he murmurs things, things you can't possibly comprehend with how deep he is, you swear you could feel him in your throat. your hips push back, meeting his thrusts with every persistent plap. sweat blooms. a light sheen everywhere your skin touches him, you feel warm all over. you feel him all over. spencer. spencer. spencer. 

spencer snakes a hand under your body with an unwitting amount of familiarity when he starts rubbing circles into your clit

you feel it again, pulsing, a pleasant ringing in your ears that drowns everything out except his voice. “gonna cum for me again? huh, angel? just like last night?” quiet encouragement, awe, tinged with a bit of condescension, it sends sparks down your spine, setting off fireworks between your legs. 

your head tips over to his arm, where it's planted beside you on the pillow, to sink teeth into flesh. canines dig into muscle, and if you were any more coherent, you would’ve drawn blood. your scream muffles against him, legs twitching out and shaking under his body, spencer blankets you with a heavy grounding pressure as your orgasm crests. his lips press to your cheek when you look over your shoulder at him, eyebrows imploringly upturned, he follows right after you and he is beautiful. 

he slumps, heavy. but the good kind. you welcome the pressure and the closeness for a minute while your breathing evens out. in and out.

“i need to pee, reid."

“oh please, don't call me that when i'm still inside you.”

you laugh into the pillow, shoulders shaking while he pulls out. funny boy. you pull a shirt over your head and watch as spencer stumbles trying to put on his underwear. he trails behind you quietly as you walk into the attached bathroom and pretend to ignore the pout he tries to hide when you close the door. 

you feel a little stupid talking to him from the toilet but it makes it somewhat easier to ask him. “can we do this again?” your voice muffles through the wood. 

he squeaks something panicked, “i don’t know if i can–”

you push an amused smile into your knuckles, “not now, spencer. at some point, in the near future.”

“yeah?” he asks, sickeningly hopeful. “would you let me take you to dinner first? preferably not at rossi’s house?”

spencer hears the flush and then the door clicks open. you have your hands joined behind your back, he takes a step forward.

“i’d really like that.”

you’ve got an expression on your face that doesn’t warrant a confirmation, still, spencer asks. “yeah?” 

you lean forward and kiss him, a few seconds too long. “it’s a date.”