[fic]: never let you go
[mood| 
discomforted]
Title: Never let you go
Author: Lago Lindari
Beta: Not yet beta-ed. Forgive eventual mistakes.
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: "Shut up!" at criminal_prompt
Summary: “Did you - did you know that it can be quite difficult to recognize schizophrenia during its early prodromal stage?”
Reid couldn’t help but moan, muscles trembling as he arched under Morgan’s touch - dark hands splayed against pale skin, and Morgan’s mouth, leaving a trail of bites, kisses, along his neck. “Morgan - I…” he said, his voice cracking, and - Morgan just held him by the hips and thrust harder, his teeth rasping against Reid’s skin as he breathed - “Don’t - don’t. Just - let me,” as Reid clutched at his shoulders and moaned loud, his legs tightening around Morgan’s waist, and tried not to speak, just - to let go, just let it go…
-
“Did you - did you know that it can be quite difficult to recognize schizophrenia during its early prodromal stage?”
Morgan’s hands paused as he clutched the towel, and he straightened to look at Reid - who sat quietly at the kitchen table, frowning at his coffee, his long hair catching the hints of fading sunlight pouring from the window. Morgan waited for one long moment - “Right,” he said, in a vaguely inquiring voice. He turned to get the pot from the coffee maker, and took his time pouring himself a cup and stirring it, before he prodded again. “And…?”
Reid sighed, leaning against the chair to stretch his back. “It’s just - you know. It’s just my mom,” he said, then brought his hands back to rub at his neck, trying to loose the tensed muscles. “My mom,” he repeated, thoughtful. “It was so - weird, the way it started. At first she just seemed a bit, uh - odd. Sometimes she would talk about them all day long, or refuse to get out of bed altogether, and sometimes she would be just fine.” He toyed idly with his cup, turning it one way and then the other, his long fingers grazing its handle. “That’s what makes it so difficult to spot - it could be confused with depression, stress. It’s hard to pinpoint specific schizophrenia symptoms. I guess - I can’t help thinking that if I had noticed before, if I had sought out medical help before, maybe - maybe she would be better now.”
Morgan just shook his head, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, mug of steaming coffee in hand. “Reid, you can’t blame yourself, and you know it. You were twelve. Hell, even you had probably never even heard about schizophrenia at that age.”
Reid raised his eyes to meet Morgan’s, a small, somewhat crooked smile unfolding on his lips. “I guess - I guess I know that. It’s just - sort of hard not to blame oneself, sometimes.”
“Yeah.” Morgan took one long, slow sip, and hummed low. “Especially for you, isn’t it, kid.”
Reid just smirked, his lips quivering, looking a little bit sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry,” he said, and Morgan couldn’t help but snort a laugh, shaking his head again. “Oh, Reid. Just kidding. I like that soft heart of yours.” He leaned forward to stroke Reid’s head, messing his hair up. “Just try not to bash yourself too hard. I told you once before - you can’t save everyone.”
“Yeah. I know,” Reid said, making a half-hearted attempt to smooth his hair down, without much hope of succeeding. “Anyway, I - at first, she would randomly forget to have lunch, or to pick me up from school. Schizophrenia impairs the ability to cope with the normal everyday routine. Or she would not wash her hair for weeks, then scrub maniacally down the whole house with bleach because they had been there, looking for - the documents. She also developed speech difficulties - disorganized speech, alogia. And she had trouble concentrating - she would sit at her desk for hours and conclude nothing...”
“Reid - ” Morgan fought to keep his eyes on Reid’s face, though his hand clenched on the mug’s handle so hard it almost hurt. He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax his shoulders before he spoke. “You know I’m here for you whenever you need to let some pressure out. But I - ” he rubbed at his head, biting back a sigh. “Why are you telling me this?”
Reid’s hands tightened around his own mug as his eyes scanned the tabletop, as if trying to detect an answer from the intricate patterns of the wood. “Males reach a peak of vulnerability for developing schizophrenia between the ages of 18 and 27 years,” he said, barely more than a whisper. He raised one hand, quick, to prevent Morgan from interrupting him. “1.2% of the American population is affected by schizophrenia, and the average chance of developing it is 1 in 100. However, over 37% of those who develop schizophrenia do have family history of it, and if one of the parents carries the disease, the - the offsprings have a 10% chance of developing the symptoms.”
“Listen, Reid, I - that doesn’t mean shit,” Morgan forced himself not to slam the mug on the counter, and stepped towards Reid, feeling his muscles throb with unpleasant anticipation. “I know you’re worried - but if you’re thinking that will scare me off -”
“I want you to know,” Reid said, sharp. When he raised his gaze to meet Morgan’s, his voice was steady. “That’s why I’m explaining you. I want you to be able to tell. If I go crazy - ”
“That’s not gonna happen to you,” Morgan snapped, harsher than he’d intended. And he could not quite look at Reid, somehow afraid of what he would see upon his face, the firmness in his eyes - how could he seem that certain, damnit - because it was simply not an option.
“Well, I do hope so too, obviously,” Reid said, his voice definitely too cheerful considering the topic of the conversation. Morgan almost wanted to punch him. “But I have to take into account all possibilities. With our job - there’s so many factors which are recognised as possible triggers for the psychosis. Traumatic experiences, heavy stress, PTSD, prolonged assumption of prescription drugs, or - active substances” he added, almost under his breath. “Illness, respiratory infections - even influenza could trigger off schizophrenia. Can you believe it? Respiratory infections,” he repeated, and raked his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I was terrified for weeks after the whole anthrax deal. I kept waiting for - I don’t know, how on Earth are you supposed to understand if you’re going mad? Would I even notice?”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Morgan growled, turning to look at the window, vaguely knowing he had no right to feel angry - but Reid did not let himself be interrupted.
“Considering genetics and circumstances, it is highly possible that I could develop schizophrenia within the next five years.” He paused, swallowing - and when he spoke again, his voice was tight. “And I will not allow myself, or you, or - or anyone else for that matter, to suffer what I went through with my mom. I have an agreement with Dr. Bennington at the sanitarium - ”
“Okay. That’s it,” said Morgan, raising his hands. “I’m not listening to this crap one minute longer. If you think I’d ever, ever have you locked up like some lunatic freak, you’re way off tracks, kid.”
“Morgan… Derek - you’re not the only one who’s scared,” replied Reid, trying to keep his voice even, soothing, and - the fact that he could be so reasonable, so goddamn rational about it all was driving Morgan up the fucking wall. Because he was right - hell, Morgan was terrified, and he hated it. Anger, that he could deal with - but being that scared, that helpless, was something Morgan had long ago sworn he’d never have to be again. He closed his eyes, and bit back a snarl.
“You have to know that you - that you are free to walk away,” said Reid, in a small voice that made Morgan’s whole body recoil. “I would not be alone - there would be people taking care of me. And you could - you could just…”
“Goddamnit, Reid, shut up!” Morgan’s hands slammed on the table, making the cold coffee spill from Reid’s untouched mug - he tried not to let his heart crumble at the way Reid winced, drawing back from him. “I don’t wanna hear any of this. How can you even think I could - that I’d be able to just leave you and - how the fuck do you think I’d survive?”
Reid looked at him from under his mussed locks, his lashes blinking rapidly, a stricken look on his face. “Morgan - I don’t - I just don’t want you to…”
“I don’t care. Reid - Reid, look at me,” Morgan leaned forward, arms braced on the table, and sought out Reid’s gaze. “That’s not gonna happen. I’m not letting that happen to you. Got it, kid? Not a chance in hell,” he said, trying to restrain a growl, his warm eyes steady on Reid’s face.
Reid offered him a smile, and on instinct brought his hand to smooth back his hair. He held Morgan’s gaze as he said, soft - “Someone once told me - that I have to accept the fact that we can’t save everyone.”
Morgan let his head drop forward, shaking it slowly in denial. “Bullshit.” He lifted it again, his jaw set hard. “No. I’m not losing you, kid.” He brought one hand up to brush against Reid’s cheekbone, sliding to caress his hair, cupping his nape. “I’m never letting you go. I promise.”
Reid’s smile was weak. “I’m not going to hold you to that,” he whispered, grasping Morgan’s wrist, pinned by Morgan’s eyes - and Morgan just dragged him forward, his grip so tight it almost hurt - “Shut up,” he said, and he pressed his lips to Reid’s, hard.
Reid gasped in Morgan’s mouth as he was dragged up from his chair and pulled against Morgan’s strong chest, Morgan’s hands grabbing his arms, demanding - and he was sort of hurting him, but Reid just didn’t care. Morgan kissed him, angry and raw with need, and Reid moaned, clutching Morgan’s shirt, and let his tongue stroke Morgan’s, slow. He pulled back, breath heaving, to bite Morgan’s lips - Morgan growled in the back of his throat and Reid brought his hands to Morgan’s face, grasping his jaw, as Morgan kissed him like a man who’s about to drown -
-
- and later, after they’d stumbled to the couch, hands tearing at clothes, mouths unwilling to stop kissing, licking, biting - after Morgan had pressed his hand under Reid’s thigh, pushing it up, dark skin warm and just a little rough against pale one - Reid had moaned at the way Morgan fit between his legs, and had gasped and arched back when he’d pressed against him and then pushed inside, and they’d clutched at each other, a little too hard and a little too angry, not caring if it hurt -
Reid was drowning into Morgan’s eyes, bare inches from his face, so deep and - warm and hungry and desperate, before Morgan thrust against him, making him gasp, and leaned forward to mouth on his lips - “Reid - oh god, Reid, I - so much - ” and Reid squeezed his eyes shut and grasped Morgan’s head, biting his jaw, his lips, swallowing his words with kisses that tasted like wounds and smiles and borrowed time, and breathed “Shut up - Morgan, please - shut up.” He threw his head back when he felt Morgan tremble in his arms, his breath hard to catch, and just moaned Morgan’s name, over, and over again.
.
discomforted]
Title: Never let you go
Author: Lago Lindari
Beta: Not yet beta-ed. Forgive eventual mistakes.
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Reid
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: "Shut up!" at criminal_prompt
Summary: “Did you - did you know that it can be quite difficult to recognize schizophrenia during its early prodromal stage?”
Reid couldn’t help but moan, muscles trembling as he arched under Morgan’s touch - dark hands splayed against pale skin, and Morgan’s mouth, leaving a trail of bites, kisses, along his neck. “Morgan - I…” he said, his voice cracking, and - Morgan just held him by the hips and thrust harder, his teeth rasping against Reid’s skin as he breathed - “Don’t - don’t. Just - let me,” as Reid clutched at his shoulders and moaned loud, his legs tightening around Morgan’s waist, and tried not to speak, just - to let go, just let it go…
-
“Did you - did you know that it can be quite difficult to recognize schizophrenia during its early prodromal stage?”
Morgan’s hands paused as he clutched the towel, and he straightened to look at Reid - who sat quietly at the kitchen table, frowning at his coffee, his long hair catching the hints of fading sunlight pouring from the window. Morgan waited for one long moment - “Right,” he said, in a vaguely inquiring voice. He turned to get the pot from the coffee maker, and took his time pouring himself a cup and stirring it, before he prodded again. “And…?”
Reid sighed, leaning against the chair to stretch his back. “It’s just - you know. It’s just my mom,” he said, then brought his hands back to rub at his neck, trying to loose the tensed muscles. “My mom,” he repeated, thoughtful. “It was so - weird, the way it started. At first she just seemed a bit, uh - odd. Sometimes she would talk about them all day long, or refuse to get out of bed altogether, and sometimes she would be just fine.” He toyed idly with his cup, turning it one way and then the other, his long fingers grazing its handle. “That’s what makes it so difficult to spot - it could be confused with depression, stress. It’s hard to pinpoint specific schizophrenia symptoms. I guess - I can’t help thinking that if I had noticed before, if I had sought out medical help before, maybe - maybe she would be better now.”
Morgan just shook his head, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, mug of steaming coffee in hand. “Reid, you can’t blame yourself, and you know it. You were twelve. Hell, even you had probably never even heard about schizophrenia at that age.”
Reid raised his eyes to meet Morgan’s, a small, somewhat crooked smile unfolding on his lips. “I guess - I guess I know that. It’s just - sort of hard not to blame oneself, sometimes.”
“Yeah.” Morgan took one long, slow sip, and hummed low. “Especially for you, isn’t it, kid.”
Reid just smirked, his lips quivering, looking a little bit sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry,” he said, and Morgan couldn’t help but snort a laugh, shaking his head again. “Oh, Reid. Just kidding. I like that soft heart of yours.” He leaned forward to stroke Reid’s head, messing his hair up. “Just try not to bash yourself too hard. I told you once before - you can’t save everyone.”
“Yeah. I know,” Reid said, making a half-hearted attempt to smooth his hair down, without much hope of succeeding. “Anyway, I - at first, she would randomly forget to have lunch, or to pick me up from school. Schizophrenia impairs the ability to cope with the normal everyday routine. Or she would not wash her hair for weeks, then scrub maniacally down the whole house with bleach because they had been there, looking for - the documents. She also developed speech difficulties - disorganized speech, alogia. And she had trouble concentrating - she would sit at her desk for hours and conclude nothing...”
“Reid - ” Morgan fought to keep his eyes on Reid’s face, though his hand clenched on the mug’s handle so hard it almost hurt. He forced himself to take a deep breath and relax his shoulders before he spoke. “You know I’m here for you whenever you need to let some pressure out. But I - ” he rubbed at his head, biting back a sigh. “Why are you telling me this?”
Reid’s hands tightened around his own mug as his eyes scanned the tabletop, as if trying to detect an answer from the intricate patterns of the wood. “Males reach a peak of vulnerability for developing schizophrenia between the ages of 18 and 27 years,” he said, barely more than a whisper. He raised one hand, quick, to prevent Morgan from interrupting him. “1.2% of the American population is affected by schizophrenia, and the average chance of developing it is 1 in 100. However, over 37% of those who develop schizophrenia do have family history of it, and if one of the parents carries the disease, the - the offsprings have a 10% chance of developing the symptoms.”
“Listen, Reid, I - that doesn’t mean shit,” Morgan forced himself not to slam the mug on the counter, and stepped towards Reid, feeling his muscles throb with unpleasant anticipation. “I know you’re worried - but if you’re thinking that will scare me off -”
“I want you to know,” Reid said, sharp. When he raised his gaze to meet Morgan’s, his voice was steady. “That’s why I’m explaining you. I want you to be able to tell. If I go crazy - ”
“That’s not gonna happen to you,” Morgan snapped, harsher than he’d intended. And he could not quite look at Reid, somehow afraid of what he would see upon his face, the firmness in his eyes - how could he seem that certain, damnit - because it was simply not an option.
“Well, I do hope so too, obviously,” Reid said, his voice definitely too cheerful considering the topic of the conversation. Morgan almost wanted to punch him. “But I have to take into account all possibilities. With our job - there’s so many factors which are recognised as possible triggers for the psychosis. Traumatic experiences, heavy stress, PTSD, prolonged assumption of prescription drugs, or - active substances” he added, almost under his breath. “Illness, respiratory infections - even influenza could trigger off schizophrenia. Can you believe it? Respiratory infections,” he repeated, and raked his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I was terrified for weeks after the whole anthrax deal. I kept waiting for - I don’t know, how on Earth are you supposed to understand if you’re going mad? Would I even notice?”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Morgan growled, turning to look at the window, vaguely knowing he had no right to feel angry - but Reid did not let himself be interrupted.
“Considering genetics and circumstances, it is highly possible that I could develop schizophrenia within the next five years.” He paused, swallowing - and when he spoke again, his voice was tight. “And I will not allow myself, or you, or - or anyone else for that matter, to suffer what I went through with my mom. I have an agreement with Dr. Bennington at the sanitarium - ”
“Okay. That’s it,” said Morgan, raising his hands. “I’m not listening to this crap one minute longer. If you think I’d ever, ever have you locked up like some lunatic freak, you’re way off tracks, kid.”
“Morgan… Derek - you’re not the only one who’s scared,” replied Reid, trying to keep his voice even, soothing, and - the fact that he could be so reasonable, so goddamn rational about it all was driving Morgan up the fucking wall. Because he was right - hell, Morgan was terrified, and he hated it. Anger, that he could deal with - but being that scared, that helpless, was something Morgan had long ago sworn he’d never have to be again. He closed his eyes, and bit back a snarl.
“You have to know that you - that you are free to walk away,” said Reid, in a small voice that made Morgan’s whole body recoil. “I would not be alone - there would be people taking care of me. And you could - you could just…”
“Goddamnit, Reid, shut up!” Morgan’s hands slammed on the table, making the cold coffee spill from Reid’s untouched mug - he tried not to let his heart crumble at the way Reid winced, drawing back from him. “I don’t wanna hear any of this. How can you even think I could - that I’d be able to just leave you and - how the fuck do you think I’d survive?”
Reid looked at him from under his mussed locks, his lashes blinking rapidly, a stricken look on his face. “Morgan - I don’t - I just don’t want you to…”
“I don’t care. Reid - Reid, look at me,” Morgan leaned forward, arms braced on the table, and sought out Reid’s gaze. “That’s not gonna happen. I’m not letting that happen to you. Got it, kid? Not a chance in hell,” he said, trying to restrain a growl, his warm eyes steady on Reid’s face.
Reid offered him a smile, and on instinct brought his hand to smooth back his hair. He held Morgan’s gaze as he said, soft - “Someone once told me - that I have to accept the fact that we can’t save everyone.”
Morgan let his head drop forward, shaking it slowly in denial. “Bullshit.” He lifted it again, his jaw set hard. “No. I’m not losing you, kid.” He brought one hand up to brush against Reid’s cheekbone, sliding to caress his hair, cupping his nape. “I’m never letting you go. I promise.”
Reid’s smile was weak. “I’m not going to hold you to that,” he whispered, grasping Morgan’s wrist, pinned by Morgan’s eyes - and Morgan just dragged him forward, his grip so tight it almost hurt - “Shut up,” he said, and he pressed his lips to Reid’s, hard.
Reid gasped in Morgan’s mouth as he was dragged up from his chair and pulled against Morgan’s strong chest, Morgan’s hands grabbing his arms, demanding - and he was sort of hurting him, but Reid just didn’t care. Morgan kissed him, angry and raw with need, and Reid moaned, clutching Morgan’s shirt, and let his tongue stroke Morgan’s, slow. He pulled back, breath heaving, to bite Morgan’s lips - Morgan growled in the back of his throat and Reid brought his hands to Morgan’s face, grasping his jaw, as Morgan kissed him like a man who’s about to drown -
-
- and later, after they’d stumbled to the couch, hands tearing at clothes, mouths unwilling to stop kissing, licking, biting - after Morgan had pressed his hand under Reid’s thigh, pushing it up, dark skin warm and just a little rough against pale one - Reid had moaned at the way Morgan fit between his legs, and had gasped and arched back when he’d pressed against him and then pushed inside, and they’d clutched at each other, a little too hard and a little too angry, not caring if it hurt -
Reid was drowning into Morgan’s eyes, bare inches from his face, so deep and - warm and hungry and desperate, before Morgan thrust against him, making him gasp, and leaned forward to mouth on his lips - “Reid - oh god, Reid, I - so much - ” and Reid squeezed his eyes shut and grasped Morgan’s head, biting his jaw, his lips, swallowing his words with kisses that tasted like wounds and smiles and borrowed time, and breathed “Shut up - Morgan, please - shut up.” He threw his head back when he felt Morgan tremble in his arms, his breath hard to catch, and just moaned Morgan’s name, over, and over again.
.