FIC: Irresistable Part Four
Title: Irresistable - Part Four
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Type: Slash
Pairing: Reid/The BAU, Reid/Blackwolf
Summary: Hotch placed the sword carefully on the table and turned to Reid. “When did I enter the Twilight Zone?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Prompts: 018 Forced Union for wtf27, I own u for 10_cliche_fics and Dangerous Love for 2x5obsessions
Author’s Note: Thank you to slash_girl for duties above and beyond as both beta and source of inspiration. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
George Burns
Holding his mug of coffee, Hotch smiled. Reid had been talking non-stop since he woke up and was now striding back and forth, hands moving wildly as he ranted about his father.
“I cannot believe he had the nerve to do that. To just turn up here and give me a hard time and what he did to you - he’s unbelievable. I am so sick of him, of all of them, they ignore me most of the time until they want something. He never, ever goes to see my mom and as for the wedding? I didn’t even want to go - he made me. Nobody even knew I was there, so that whole thing about people being offended was just bullshit.”
Reid paused for breath and Hotch took the opportunity to do more than just nod and make agreeing noises. “What about your brothers?”
Reid gave a snort. “Ruairdrhi is an idiot - he likes pretty things and looking at himself in mirrors. And Tristan’s a prick. He used to amuse himself when I came to visit by setting my feet on fire, or locking me in rooms with no lights on and making it so I couldn’t find the door to get out. Then he would do that silencing trick my Dad did, so I couldn’t tell anybody. Asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hotch. “Siblings can be pretty mean to each other. I don’t think I did anything that bad to Sean though." He reached out and took Reid’s hand. “Were you ever going to tell me about . . . this?”
Reid shrugged. “I . . . I don’t know. I guess so. It’s not easy - you would have thought I was crazy. My dad isn’t someone I want to inflict on many people.”
Hotch reached out and stroked his cheek. “I knew you had a middle name - it’s in your personnel file. I kept meaning to ask you how it was pronounced, but you never mentioned it.”
“It’s Irish,” replied Reid sullenly, “There’s a few ways you can pronounce it - Kwee-veen is probably the most authentic and Dad’s a sucker for authenticity. It means beautiful child - he and my mom each got to choose one name.” He added, “I prefer Spencer.”
“Is your father Irish?” asked Hotch.
Reid shook his head. “He likes Celtic names because he thinks they sound better. He goes on about Irish heritage, but it’s all for show. That’s the whole thing with them - it’s all about appearances. Do you know what a chuisle means?”
Hotch shook his head and Reid continued. “The literal meaning is my blood. That’s what matters to him - honour and bloodline. Family is everything - it’s like a high fashion version of the Cosa Nostra.”
Reid sighed and Hotch put down his mug before taking his lover in his arms. He kissed the top of his head.
-----------------------------------
Later that day, Hotch and Reid were lying on the couch, making out with gentle languorous kisses. Reid’s shirt was undone and he was enjoying the feel of Hotch’s soft cotton t-shirt against his bare skin.
He tipped his head back as Hotch moved to lick his neck. His lover’s tongue moved slowly over his skin, making him shiver and groan almost inaudibly. Reid moved his hand down Hotch’s back and slid his fingers under the waistband of Hotch’s jeans, gently massaging the soft flesh there. He smiled as Hotch responded by sucking hard at his neck. Reid was enjoying this.
In fact, he was enjoying it so much that at first he ignored the faint rustling sound coming from the chair next to the couch. He ignored it until Hotch stopped kissing him and sat up. Then Reid turned his head and saw his father sitting next to them, a glass of whisky in one hand.
Dubhlainn cleared his throat. “Please excuse the intrusion. Would you like me to wait elsewhere until you have finished?”
Sitting up, Reid scowled at him. “Not really. Finding out your dad is watching kind of kills the moment.” He rebuttoned his shirt crossly.
Dubhlainn smiled infuriatingly. “I wasn’t being a voyeur.”
“Oh really?” snapped Reid. “You’ve made yourself pretty comfortable. I’m surprised you didn’t bring popcorn.”
Hotch stood up. “Can I get you anything?” he asked in an attempt at diplomacy.
Dubhlainn shook his head with a sad smile. “As I said, I’m sorry to be the cause of coitus interruptus. However, I am here on an important matter.”
Reid sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s so important that you have to barge into my life two nights in a row?”
Dubhlainn sighed and handed both Hotch and Reid a whisky glass containing a large measure of spirit. “You have to come back to Faerie,” he said, looking at Reid. “I’m sorry - there was nothing else I could do.”
Hotch stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Dubhlainn continued, ignoring Hotch. “The bride’s family were deeply offended by your absence from the wedding and have invoked an ancient Faerie law.” He paused, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “They have demanded payment.”
Reid frowned at his father. “How much?”
Dubhlainn sighed and looked down at his hands for a moment before lifting his head. His voice was gentle as he answered him. “They want you. You are the payment.”
“I don’t understand,” said Hotch. “Payment for what?”
Dubhlainn turned to Hotch and said, “The family were dishonoured. In recompense, they are demanding the cause of their dishonour to be given to them to do with as they please. It is an ancient law and very rarely invoked. However, it must be upheld.”
Reid’s mouth was dry. “They want to have me as a slave?” he asked faintly.
Dubhlainn shook his head. “I doubt that,” he said sadly. “They are kin to the Sluagh. You know what that means.”
Reid processed this information, draining the glass of whisky in his hand. A lifetime of slavery would be paradise in comparison to what they would do to him. They were creatures who thrived on pain and suffering. He willed his hands not to shake. He had heard all the stories; their cruelty was legendary and they had a tradition of torturing their captives as after dinner entertainment. They kept their “pets” alive as long as they could - years usually. Reid felt cold inside.
Hotch jumped to his feet. “It’s quite simple,” he said, “He won’t go. They have no jurisdiction here - you can’t enforce your laws in this country.”
Dubhlainn gave a snort. “He can run as far as he likes - they will find him and they will take him. Caoimhin is subject to the laws of his people.”
Reid looked up at Hotch, who had folded his arms and was glaring at his father. “Let me represent him then,” he said. “I want to see every detail of this law - there has to be a loophole and I will find it. He hasn’t even had a fair hearing.”
“This is not Ally McBeal,” replied Dubhlainn with a snarl. “There are no loopholes, no fancy arguments. The fairy tales you read to your son are sanitised versions of our lives - our laws are absolute and our punishments severe.” He paused and glared at Hotch. “There is no representation and there is no right of appeal.”
“And you are just going to let this happen?” asked Hotch, incredulous. “You people are savage.”
Reid watched as his father jumped to his feet, his eyes dark with anger. “Savage? Faerie justice is brutal but we have never pretended to be anything different.” The furniture shook as he spoke and sparks flew from his fingertips. “And do you think you humans are better? Human history is full of your acts of atrocity - how can the species who murdered six million of your own in the last century lecture me on savagery?”
Hotch swallowed and continued to glower at Dubhlainn. “None of this helps Spencer,” he replied. “He’s your son and there has to be something you can do.”
Dubhlainn’s tone was icy. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I have been negotiating and urging the King to find another way. He has already risked enough by refusing to allow them to flay him alive. The law exists and if the King denies them, it will lead to all out war.” His shoulders dropped and his voice fell. “I am doing everything in my power,” he muttered.
Reid swallowed hard at the mention of flaying. He shook his head and tried to comprehend what his father was saying. He was going to be handed over to a group of sadists because he had somehow offended them. The anger welled up inside him.
“This is so much bullshit!” he shouted. Both Hotch and his father turned to him in surprise. “This is why I never have anything to do with Faerie - because of all the stupid fucking bullshit!”
He stamped across the room, grabbing the whisky bottle and pouring himself another large measure. “I’m not going back and you can’t make me,” he snapped, slamming his hand on the counter. “It’s not fair.”
“I can make you and no, life isn’t fair,” replied Dubhlainn calmly.
“I left because I had to go to work and now I’m going to be enslaved and tortured for it?” yelled Reid, draining his glass and banging it hard on the counter. “This is BULLSHIT.”
He felt Hotch place a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off, furious with the whole situation. “What’s Ruairdrhi doing about it? They’re his stupid in-laws.”
“He can do nothing,” said Dubhlainn, “His wife’s family is very important. Ruairdrhi is less so.”
For a moment Reid stared at him, feeling his eyes welling up. “I got out of that shack in Georgia to be end up being given to . . . to . . .” He took a breath and then turned and hurled his glass at the wall, shouting, “Ignorant assholes who spend their lives waiting to be offended.” Then he stood still, breathing heavily and looking at the shattered pieces littering his floor.
“Caoimhin, Spencer, please,” urged Dubhlainn, taking a step towards him.
Reid looked aghast at both of them. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” he yelled, bringing his arm up and then pitching it forwards, throwing a ball of blue fire into the floor. His eyes widened and then he ran into the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him.
-----------------------------------
Hotch was stunned. He looked at Dubhlainn as the sound of sobbing echoed off tiled walls around the apartment. He started towards the bathroom.
Dubhlainn put out a hand. “Stay. If he wanted your comfort right now, he would be crying right here. Let him lock himself away for a moment and regain his dignity.”
“I can’t listen to this and do nothing,” gasped Hotch. Reid’s sobs grew louder and more desperate and were joined by the sound of him slamming his fist into the bathroom cabinet.
“Then don’t listen,” was Dubhlainn’s response and he took Hotch’s arm to lead him over to the couch. The faery flicked his hand at the stereo and the room filled with music. “Don’t listen,” he soothed, stroking his fingers over Hotch’s hair. “Let him howl if he needs to.”
The music was only partially successful at drowning out the anguished sounds coming from the bathroom, but Dubhlainn’s caress was strangely calming and Hotch was able to stay on the couch until the weeping died down.
He looked at Dubhlainn and asked, “Is there nothing we can do? I want to help him.”
Dubhlainn’s voice was soft. “Why?” he asked.
Hotch frowned. “I love him,” he replied - surprised at his own candour.
The response was a dramatic sigh. “I thought you’d never say it,” muttered Dubhlainn.
“What?”
The faery smirked. “There is one way to help him, but you needed to admit your feelings for him. The clan has demanded my son and that can only be challenged if someone else can claim ownership. You have a prior claim and you can fight for your property.”
“Fight for Spencer?” asked Hotch.
“Yes, you can fight for him. You will challenge their best fighter and if you are successful, you can keep him.”
“Keep me? I’m not a possession.” Reid’s voice was hoarse. Hotch and Dubhlainn looked up to see him standing there, arms wrapped protectively round his torso, his eyes red and swollen. “Why can’t I fight for myself?”
“Because you are the prize and the prize can’t fight,” replied Dubhlainn sharply.
Hotch stood up. Reid looked so defensive that he forced himself not to touch him. “I know you’re not a possession but I want to do this,” he said.
Reid swallowed and then spoke, his voice wobbling with emotion. “I don’t want anybody else to suffer for me. It’s a duel to the death and I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t even fight for my own life.”
“Life isn’t fair,” murmured Dubhlainn, moving to stroke Reid’s hair from his face. “Let Aaron Hotchner be your champion. He looks like he has a swordsman’s arms.”
Hotch turned to him. “Swordsman?” he asked, suddenly off balance. “I thought duels were fought with pistols?”
“Not in Faerie,” said Dubhlainn with a shake of his head. “Can you handle a broadsword?”
Hotch swallowed. “Strangely enough, I’ve never used one. I did do some fencing in college though.”
Dubhlainn looked him up and down appraisingly. “I think a Claymore is going to suit your build. I can stall them for a couple of days, so you have some time to train.”
“A couple of days?” gasped Hotch. “I don’t even have a sword.”
“I do,” offered Reid. “In my closet.” He turned and scurried out of the room. Hotch shook his head in disbelief. Last night had been strange enough, but events were now bordering on the ridiculous. He had now agreed to fight some malevolent creature to the death in order to save his lover from an unknown, yet terrifying fate. He pinched his arms hard - just in case.
Reid returned carrying a simple double edged sword. Rather than looking completely incongruous, the sight of him holding the weapon made perfect sense. Armed with a sword, Reid looked somehow otherwordly, more Fae than human.
Dubhlainn took the sword and weighed it in his hands, turning it over and running a finger across the flat of the blade. “At least you treat this with respect,” he muttered and then he looked up at Hotch. “Bladed weapons only - you need to practise with this. And you can use a back up as well.”
“What do you mean?” frowned Hotch.
“You carry two guns just in case,” smiled Dubhlainn. “It wouldn’t do any harm to have a little surprise tucked away.”
Hotch nodded slowly and took the sword Dubhlainn was holding out to him. It felt solid and yet light in his hands, the blade glinting as he turned it over. It was beautifully crafted - he just hoped he could do it justice.
He glanced up at Dubhlainn to see him wink. “I have every confidence in you, Aaron Hotchner of the FBI. I will be in touch regarding the actual contest.”
“Is this why you came before?” asked Hotch. “Did you already know what they wanted?”
Dubhlainn nodded. “Yesterday I thought his only chance was to put up the best fight he could when they came for him. We should have had time to train him up but the Clan insisted on being paid right away.” He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before continuing. “The King agreed to the duel but I needed you to say it out loud before your claim could mean anything.”
Reid scowled. “You should have been straight with me yesterday.”
Dubhlainn took hold of Reid’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Be strong a chuisle ,” he said softly, “You have a worthy champion.”
Reid sighed and then nodded. Dubhlainn placed a hand on Hotch’s shoulder and bent close to his ear. “Train hard,” he whispered, “And take my son to bed.”
After Dubhlainn had gone, Hotch placed the sword carefully on the table and turned to Reid. “When did I enter the Twilight Zone?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Reid managed a small smile. “I’m sorry,” he replied, “You shouldn’t have to get involved.”
Hotch shook his head. “It’s me who should apologise. I called you to come to work.”
Reid sighed. “Not your fault. I should have asked to be excused - I just wanted to get away and not have to deal with my Dad being angry with me again.” His voice caught. “I don’t want anyone to fight my battles for me.”
Hotch stepped forwards and embraced him. “It will be my privilege,” he murmured, pulling the young man close. Changing the subject, he added, ”I didn’t know you could throw fire.”
“Me neither,” replied Reid, his voice muffled by Hotch’s shoulder, “Yet another useless skill.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Hotch. “It would shut Morgan up - and that’s not to be underrated.”
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Hotch spent most of the next day training with Reid’s sword instructor, who was delighted to have a willing pupil at last. He came from Faerie and explained to Hotch that he owed Dubhlainn a favour or two and like many of the faeries, had no love for the Clan that were demanding Reid.
It was hard work and Hotch’s arms and shoulders were aching at the end of it. But he at least felt he had gained a degree of competence. By the evening, he wanted nothing more than to sink into a deep hot bath, followed by a massage and a blow job, but there remained another call to make.
He needed to have a back up.
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John Blackwolf greeted Hotch with a folded arms and a solemn nod. “I thought that when I came to Washington, we would maybe get some dinner and a few drinks. Why have you asked me to teach you to handle a knife?” He smirked. “I thought Captain America preferred a little more firepower.”
Hotch sighed, letting the mockery wash over him. He explained the situation to Blackwolf, telling him the whole story and then waiting for the man to burst into laughter.
Instead Blackwolf gave him a knowing smile. “I knew he was Fae from the moment I met him.”
“You knew about Reid?” asked Hotch, surprised.
“Of course,” laughed Blackwolf. “I figured he wasn’t out, so I never mentioned it.”
He had recognised Reid as having Faerie ancestry as soon as they'd met and this had been confirmed by the seduction that night. Reid had been asking about Apache customs, stuttering and fiddling with his hair and before long, he and Blackwolf had been ripping each other’s clothes off. There had been a night of very noisy, very athletic sex and Blackwolf had been surprised at just how limber the young man was. He had feigned sleep as Reid stroked his fingers over his forehead before sneaking out of his room, knowing that he had the power to resist the memory charm.
Blackwolf snapped out of his reverie as Hotch cleared his throat. He decided not to mention that fact that he was one of Reid’s former lovers - he suspected Hotch would rather not know. Instead he looked seriously at him. “You need to be on your toes,” he warned, “Remember - they don’t play nice.”
“I gather that,” replied Hotch grimly, “Do you have much experience with these faeries?”
“A little,” said Blackwolf. “There are some encounters I would rather forget. Fair play isn’t in their vocabulary.” He picked up his knife and handed it to Hotch. “Now concentrate and listen to what I tell you.”
Blackwolf was firm, but patient, taking the time to ensure Hotch could keep his balance and throw the knife with power and accuracy. By the time Reid arrived to meet Hotch, Blackwolf was satisfied that he had taught the FBI man as much as he could for now.
Blackwolf nodded at Reid, amused by the nervous wave the young man gave him. It seemed strange that he was so averse to shaking hands in this setting and yet appeared to have no inhibitions whatsoever in bed. Blackwolf smiled at the memory of Reid’s mouth, licking and tasting all over his body, the way that Reid had looked at him, lips moist and parted, urging Blackwolf to take him again, to fuck him harder.
He turned to Hotch and embraced him briefly. “Keep this in your mind - inside twenty one feet you win,” he said. “And remember the saying - the man who fights for love has victory on his side.”
Hotch raised one eyebrow. “That’s an old Apache saying?”
“No,” said Blackwolf with a smile, “It’s Blackwolf, 2008. Good luck.”
------------------------------------
Despite the gravity of the situation, Reid allowed himself a moment to remember having sex with John Blackwolf. He had been an enthusiastic and uninhibited partner and seeing him today reminded him of a very satisfying night that ended only because of physical exhaustion. Of all the cops he had slept with while travelling for work, Blackwolf was one of his favourites, alongside Katie Cole and Cal McGee. He didn’t actively work on having sex with the lead officer on the cases they were assisting with, but sometimes, he just couldn’t help it.
And neither, it seemed, could they.
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The day of the duel seemed to arrive very quickly. Hotch wasn’t too sure how they got to Faerie - it all happened so fast. Reid seemed to be trying very hard to reassure him and Hotch attempted to appear reassured. He didn’t tell him that he would rather have spent a weekend camping with Vincent Perotta than go through the next few hours.
Dubhlainn was solemn, greeting Hotch with extreme politeness, and embracing Reid, stroking his hand over the young man’s hair.
They stood in silence for a moment and then Dubhlainn turned to Hotch, looking him up and down. “Is that what you are wearing?”
Hotch frowned at him. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He had opted for comfort and ease of movement.
Dubhlainn gave an exaggerated sigh. “If you really have to ask, then there is no point in explaining. All my clothes are couture and blood can be a devil to get out.” He thought for a moment. “You’d better borrow something from Tristan.”
At the mention of his brother’s name, Reid scowled. Dubhlainn placed both hands on his shoulders and looked hard at him. “He’s in the hall. Go now - there isn’t much time.”
Reid sighed and nodded, taking Hotch’s hand and leading him to the hall.
----------------------------------------------
Hotch looked at the young man, clad head to foot in black, who was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed and feet resting on the table in front of him. He nodded at them both, his chin held high. The family resemblance to Reid and his father was striking.
Reid shuffled his feet and gestured towards the man. “This is my . . . um . . . brother. Tristan.”
Hotch held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Aaron . . . Hotchner. Of the FBI.”
In response, Tristan slowly uncrossed his legs and planted each foot squarely and loudly on the floor. Then he stood up, his long body uncurling from his chair, and took Hotch’s hand. He bent his head and kissed it. “Delighted,” he said. Turning to Reid he added, “Very nice, Caoimhin. I see you still have good taste.”
“Stop it,” muttered Reid, looking uncomfortable. There was a pause and then he spoke again. “Can you, um, find Aaron something to wear?”
Tristan looked him up and down and smirked. “I guess so.” He turned and began to head out of the room. “Follow me.”
Hotch did as he was bade and followed Tristan down a series of corridors until they came to a large, lavishly decorated room. Tristan opened a closet door and began to sort through the items hanging there. Hotch watched him for a moment and then Tristan turned to him with a dangerous grin.
“So,” he said. “You’re the one who tamed our wildcat. Nice job.”
“Wildcat?” asked Hotch.
Tristan’s grin widened and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “My little brother isn’t as innocent as he makes out,” he said. He looked at Hotch, as though considering whether or not to say more and then turned back to rummaging through the clothes.
Tristan pulled out pair of black velvet pants with a matching tunic and handed them to Hotch. “These will fit you,” he said. “Put them on now.”
Hotch changed quickly into the clothes, surprised to find that they fitted him perfectly. Tristan watched him appraisingly, arms folded and head tilted to one side. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Hotch nodded and then followed Tristan back down to meet Reid.
The young man startled as they came back into the room. “You look like a fighter,” he said to Hotch and then flung his arms around him, pulling him close.
Hotch caressed him, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head. “It’ll be okay,” he soothed, “It will all be over soon.”
He felt Reid nod and held on to him, cuddling him until Reid pulled away. The young man turned to Tristan and spoke in a trembling voice. “Are you going to watch it?” he asked.
Tristan nodded. “Ruairdrhi is keeping out of the way. I’ll be there with Dad.”
Reid scowled. “I bet Dad would be glad to be rid of me,” he muttered.
Tristan gave a loud snort. “What?” he said, incredulous. “Why do you think he’s gone to so much trouble to try and save your life, you ungrateful little bastard?”
Reid coloured and he snapped at Tristan. “He doesn’t want me - he never did. He just doesn’t want to lose.”
Tristan shook his head. “I thought you were supposed to be smart - seems to me you’re pretty stupid. You’re his favourite - always have been.”
“That’s crap,” retorted Reid, hotly.
Tristan waved Reid’s protest away. “You haven’t seen him over the last few days - he has been desperate to find a way to save you. He’s driven the King almost mad. Dad would never admit it, but you are very special to him.”
“I don’t believe you,” muttered Reid, looking at the floor.
Tristan took hold of Reid’s chin and tilted it back, forcing the young man to look at him. “Well you’d better believe it,” he said, harshly. “When you were taken in Georgia, he was beside himself. The whole of Faerie was on edge.”
“Oh yeah?” scowled Reid. “Is that why he just left me there - helpless? I couldn’t move my hands, I couldn’t do anything!”
Tristan’s eyes flashed with anger. “He couldn’t find you - none of us could. We knew you were in trouble and nobody could get to you. There was old magic there, dark magic, and it stopped him reaching you. And then, when it was all over, he went to you and watched over you every night while you slept - for weeks.”
Reid was stunned. “I . . . I didn’t know,” he said softly.
Tristan let go of his chin and nodded. “If you ask him, he’ll deny it,” he said with a shrug. “Dad isn’t going to admit to having human feelings towards you. But we all know you’re his favourite child - the one he’d do anything for.”
Reid stared at his brother as Hotch put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, his eyes wide.
“Well you do now,” said Tristan dismissively. “But you didn’t hear it from me. Now say goodbye to your loverboy because they’re here for you.”
Reid gulped, suddenly scared. He glanced at the door, blanching as it opened and two of the King’s guards marched in. One carried a set of heavy looking chains. Reid reached for Hotch.
His lover took him in his arms and kissed him. Hotch held him tightly and for a moment Reid felt safe. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” replied Hotch quietly, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand.
Doing his best to remain calm, Reid took a deep breath and turned to face the guards. He stared straight ahead, his chin high, as they fastened the cold metal chains around his wrists and ankles. Then he allowed himself to be led away, shuffling in the shackles with as much dignity as he could manage.
Hotch stared after him, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. Very shortly he would be fighting some monster in order to save both his life and that of his lover. This was not part of his life plan.
“Don’t worry,” said Tristan cheerfully. “Dad won’t let them take him alive. If you fail, he’ll kill the kid himself.”
“Thanks,” muttered Hotch. “I guess I’m supposed to find that reassuring.”
“Better quickly and painlessly than what they’ll do to him,” Tristan responded, placing a hand on his arm. “Come on - it’s time.”
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Hotch waited at the edge of a small arena, just outside the castle grounds. There was a large crowd amassed on the rows of seats and he had tried very hard not to flinch at the appearance of the Clan on the opposite side. His opponent was pacing back and forth, being given last minute advice by his supporters.
Hotch gathered that his presence had caused quite a stir and that the odds against him winning were considerable. The creatures behind him were still taking bets and it seemed that the vast majority of spectators expected a short and bloody contest.
The King, at least, had been sympathetic, apologising to Hotch for the whole nature of the duel and wishing him all the best. The monarch now took his seat, with Dubhlainn and Tristan sitting grim faced next to him. There was a sudden buzz and muttering amongst the crowd and Hotch looked up to see the guards bringing Reid in.
Hotch inhaled sharply at the sight of Reid, heavily shackled, being led to a narrow cage at the edge of the arena. Reid had his head up and Hotch felt his heart tug a little at his bravery. The guards opened the cage and as Reid prepared to step inside, Hotch saw him falter a little, his breathing coming a little faster and the colour draining from his face. The young man stumbled into the coffin-like cage and stood facing straight ahead as the door was padlocked.
Hotch turned his head away and stared instead at his opponent. He needed to focus on the fight.
The Clansman spat onto the dirt floor of the arena and growled at Hotch. He was a good couple of feet taller and at least twice as broad. His skin was dark grey and scaly and Hotch was sure he could see fangs when the creature opened his mouth.
Hotch tightened his grip on the sword and bounced from foot to foot, full of nervous energy. He thought enviously of the scene where Indiana Jones, faced with a sword wielding enemy, wearily pulls out his gun and shoots him. Unfortunately, his sidearm was in another dimension so he was going to have to go through with the fight. He had faced down serial killers, dealt with some of the most despicable human beings - of course he could beat a supernatural creature.
The King stood up, ready to start the duel. Hotch took a deep breath. It was time.
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For the next few minutes, Hotch tried hard to empty his head of any thought. He needed to act instinctively - move and countermove, strike and parry. He was light footed, twisting his body, ducking and dodging, springing agilely across the dirt floor, forcing his bulkier opponent to follow on heavy footsteps.
The Clansman was strong, each clashing blow sending shockwaves through the steel of Hotch’s sword and reverberating through his body. Hotch kept on blocking, reacting to each attack and fighting defensively. He was growing breathless, aware of the sweat trickling down his face, but he wouldn’t allow himself to glance at the crowd. He needed to focus.
The Clansman pulled his arm back and then gave a sweeping blow that sent Hotch’s sword clattering from his hand. Hotch tumbled and rolled away from his opponent, trying to catch his breath and reach for the stiletto blade in his boot at the same time. He crouched, peering over his shoulder as the creature advanced. This was make or break time.
“Twenty-one feet,” muttered Hotch, “Come on, twenty-one feet.” He moved his arm slowly behind his thigh, shielding the knife from the Clansman’s view.
The ground shook as his opponent advanced. Hotch heard a rumble of anticipation as the creature raised his sword which was soon drowned out by a roaring in his ears. He twisted his arm, drew it back and then threw the knife with all the force he could manage.
It hit the Clansman in the eye and as the creature staggered backwards in surprise, Hotch made a grab for his sword. He leaped at his opponent and decapitated him with a single swinging blow.
There was a moment of silence as the crowd processed what had just happened and then a huge cheer filled the air. Hotch sank to his knees, exhausted. It was over.
He stayed that way for a little while, aware of the noise and bustle around him but with no strength to move. He had just killed to save his lover’s life. He wasn’t sure how to feel right now - other than not to feel anything at all. Hotch closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere else but here.
He became aware of someone standing next to him and looked up. Dubhlainn was holding out a hand and Hotch took it and let him pull him to his feet. The faery beamed at him. . “Not bad, Aaron Hotchner of the FBI, not bad at all,” he said, nodding approvingly. “The Clan are more than a little disgruntled, naturally, but a fair win is not to be quibbled with. Congratulations.”
The King stepped forwards, taking Hotch’s face in his hands and kissing him on both cheeks. “A most excellent victory,” he said, “And very accomplished - for a human.” He grinned at Hotch and clicked his fingers. “Bring Aaron Hotchner his prize.”
The crowd parted as two guards made their way though, leading Reid who was still shackled. The King gestured towards him. “All yours,” he said to Hotch. “Your claim of ownership has been thoroughly ratified.”
The guards stepped away and Hotch looked at his lover. “Can somebody unlock him, please?” he asked, slightly confused as to why this hadn’t been done before.
The King clapped his hands and the guards bustled around Reid, unlocking the cuffs and unwinding the chains. When Reid was free, Hotch held out his arms and his lover fell into them. Hotch held him close, inhaling the scent of his hair and clutching at his thin frame. It was over.
A hand on his ass caused Hotch to turn his head. Dubhlainn was standing next to him. “You will be joining us for the celebration,” he said in a silky voice.
Hotch shook his head. He just wanted to get out of here. “That’s very kind, but - “
“It wasn’t a request,” interrupted Dubhlainn, with a maddening smile. “Go and relieve some tension and then join us in the Castle Hall.”
-------------------------------------------
Reid held tight to his lover’s hand as they walked to the Castle Hall. He didn’t want to let him go. The tension of the last few days had been tremendous and now it was all over, he just wanted to hold him. He had never imagined that he would feel this way about anybody nor that there would ever be someone willing to risk their life to fight for him.
As soon as they were alone, they had been pulling each other’s clothes off, covering each other’s bodies with frantic wet kisses. They hadn’t even made it to the bed and his back was going to bear the bruises from a hard fuck against the wall for a few days to come.
It was worth it.
-------------------------------------------
Reid barely left Hotch’s side throughout the feast and was impressed by how comfortable his lover seemed. If Hotch was freaked out by any of this, he wasn’t showing it.
The feast was followed by music, which led to dancing. Dubhlainn urged Hotch to his feet and very soon, Reid had almost lost sight of his lover, whirling and dancing in the happy throng of revellers. Tristan was playing, his bow showering the crowd with silver sparks as he led them all into a dance of pure joy.
The music and dancing continued and after a while, Reid was joined on the bench by his father.
“Your Hotch is having fun,” he said, placing a hand over Reid’s.
Reid nodded, eyes focussed on the dance floor. “Yes, he is.”
“And you,” continued Dubhlainn, “Are you happy?”
Confused, Reid turned to him. “What do you mean?”
Dubhlainn’s face softened. “Whether you believe it or not, your happiness matters to me. And if your human makes you happy, then good luck to you both.” He paused. “I still think you are wasting your talents. Won’t you at least consider modelling?”
Reid shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied softly. He smiled as Hotch joined them on the bench.
Wiping the back of his hand across his brow, Hotch exhaled loudly. “Wow,” he said with a grin, “I’ve never experienced anything quite like that before.”
“Our world has a lot to recommend it,” said Dubhlainn, looking pointedly at his son. “Take a look at the gardens before you go.”
Reid nodded and taking Hotch’s hand, led him out of the Hall and down a short corridor to a small wooden door. He pushed open the door and Hotch followed him onto a small balcony overlooking an ornate garden. There were tiny glowing lights hung from all the trees and plants, illuminating it beautifully in the darkness. Some of the plants gave off a dazzling sheen, like precious metals, and the effect was always breathtaking.
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Hotch, looking around. “The whole place - it’s amazing.” He turned to Reid. “Haven’t you ever felt tempted to stay here?”
Reid shook his head and gave his lover a rueful smile. “I don’t belong,” he replied. “I would have to give up too much to stay.” He sighed and looked out over the gardens. “I don’t really belong in America either, but at least I do something useful there.”
They stood in silence for a moment, both taking in the view. Then Hotch spoke. “Tristan said something to me - about you being a wildcat.” He turned to Reid. “Was he just making mischief?”
Thankful that the darkness could hide the blush spreading over his cheeks, Reid swallowed hard. Still facing forward, his voice trembled slightly as he spoke. “I, um, I’ve had some . . . um, there’s been a few others,” he replied. “I’ve had a couple of boyfriends before.” He twisted his hands awkwardly together.
Hotch nodded. “I’m not interested in your past,” he said gently, “I just need to know that it’s just you and me from now on. Just the two of us.”
Relieved, Reid turned to Hotch and pulled him close. He knew Hotch would find it difficult to understand his past and was just glad that he didn’t want to know about it. “It’s just us,” he mumbled, resting his head on Hotch’s chest. “I don’t want anybody else now that I’ve got you.”
Stroking his lover’s hair, Hotch murmured, “That’s good, because I don’t want anybody else either.”
----------------------------------------------
As Hotch and Reid prepared to return to Washington, the King presented Hotch with silver chain. “You are always welcome here, Aaron Hotchner of the FBI,” he said.
Dubhlainn embraced his son, holding tightly to Reid and kissing the top of his head. “Slán agus beannacht leat,” he whispered. “A chuisle mo chroi.”
Then he turned to Hotch and nodded warmly at him. “Go safely back to your serial killers,” he said, “And we will see you in a few months for the King’s birthday celebrations.”
Hotch cleared his throat. “I’m very flattered to be asked, but-“
Dubhlainn leaned forwards and kissed Hotch chastely on the lips. “It wasn’t a request,” he said softly. He bowed deeply to them both and then returned to the feast.
As they found themselves back in Reid’s apartment, Hotch shook his head resignedly. “Does he ever take no for an answer?” he asked.
Reid looked up at him and smiled. “Never,” he said. “My dad is pretty much irresistible.”
Hotch kissed his cheek. “You know what?” he smirked. “I think it runs in the family.”
THE END
Love is what you’ve been through with somebody
James Thurber
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Type: Slash
Pairing: Reid/The BAU, Reid/Blackwolf
Summary: Hotch placed the sword carefully on the table and turned to Reid. “When did I enter the Twilight Zone?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Prompts: 018 Forced Union for wtf27, I own u for 10_cliche_fics and Dangerous Love for 2x5obsessions
Author’s Note: Thank you to slash_girl for duties above and beyond as both beta and source of inspiration. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
George Burns
Holding his mug of coffee, Hotch smiled. Reid had been talking non-stop since he woke up and was now striding back and forth, hands moving wildly as he ranted about his father.
“I cannot believe he had the nerve to do that. To just turn up here and give me a hard time and what he did to you - he’s unbelievable. I am so sick of him, of all of them, they ignore me most of the time until they want something. He never, ever goes to see my mom and as for the wedding? I didn’t even want to go - he made me. Nobody even knew I was there, so that whole thing about people being offended was just bullshit.”
Reid paused for breath and Hotch took the opportunity to do more than just nod and make agreeing noises. “What about your brothers?”
Reid gave a snort. “Ruairdrhi is an idiot - he likes pretty things and looking at himself in mirrors. And Tristan’s a prick. He used to amuse himself when I came to visit by setting my feet on fire, or locking me in rooms with no lights on and making it so I couldn’t find the door to get out. Then he would do that silencing trick my Dad did, so I couldn’t tell anybody. Asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hotch. “Siblings can be pretty mean to each other. I don’t think I did anything that bad to Sean though." He reached out and took Reid’s hand. “Were you ever going to tell me about . . . this?”
Reid shrugged. “I . . . I don’t know. I guess so. It’s not easy - you would have thought I was crazy. My dad isn’t someone I want to inflict on many people.”
Hotch reached out and stroked his cheek. “I knew you had a middle name - it’s in your personnel file. I kept meaning to ask you how it was pronounced, but you never mentioned it.”
“It’s Irish,” replied Reid sullenly, “There’s a few ways you can pronounce it - Kwee-veen is probably the most authentic and Dad’s a sucker for authenticity. It means beautiful child - he and my mom each got to choose one name.” He added, “I prefer Spencer.”
“Is your father Irish?” asked Hotch.
Reid shook his head. “He likes Celtic names because he thinks they sound better. He goes on about Irish heritage, but it’s all for show. That’s the whole thing with them - it’s all about appearances. Do you know what a chuisle means?”
Hotch shook his head and Reid continued. “The literal meaning is my blood. That’s what matters to him - honour and bloodline. Family is everything - it’s like a high fashion version of the Cosa Nostra.”
Reid sighed and Hotch put down his mug before taking his lover in his arms. He kissed the top of his head.
-----------------------------------
Later that day, Hotch and Reid were lying on the couch, making out with gentle languorous kisses. Reid’s shirt was undone and he was enjoying the feel of Hotch’s soft cotton t-shirt against his bare skin.
He tipped his head back as Hotch moved to lick his neck. His lover’s tongue moved slowly over his skin, making him shiver and groan almost inaudibly. Reid moved his hand down Hotch’s back and slid his fingers under the waistband of Hotch’s jeans, gently massaging the soft flesh there. He smiled as Hotch responded by sucking hard at his neck. Reid was enjoying this.
In fact, he was enjoying it so much that at first he ignored the faint rustling sound coming from the chair next to the couch. He ignored it until Hotch stopped kissing him and sat up. Then Reid turned his head and saw his father sitting next to them, a glass of whisky in one hand.
Dubhlainn cleared his throat. “Please excuse the intrusion. Would you like me to wait elsewhere until you have finished?”
Sitting up, Reid scowled at him. “Not really. Finding out your dad is watching kind of kills the moment.” He rebuttoned his shirt crossly.
Dubhlainn smiled infuriatingly. “I wasn’t being a voyeur.”
“Oh really?” snapped Reid. “You’ve made yourself pretty comfortable. I’m surprised you didn’t bring popcorn.”
Hotch stood up. “Can I get you anything?” he asked in an attempt at diplomacy.
Dubhlainn shook his head with a sad smile. “As I said, I’m sorry to be the cause of coitus interruptus. However, I am here on an important matter.”
Reid sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s so important that you have to barge into my life two nights in a row?”
Dubhlainn sighed and handed both Hotch and Reid a whisky glass containing a large measure of spirit. “You have to come back to Faerie,” he said, looking at Reid. “I’m sorry - there was nothing else I could do.”
Hotch stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Dubhlainn continued, ignoring Hotch. “The bride’s family were deeply offended by your absence from the wedding and have invoked an ancient Faerie law.” He paused, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “They have demanded payment.”
Reid frowned at his father. “How much?”
Dubhlainn sighed and looked down at his hands for a moment before lifting his head. His voice was gentle as he answered him. “They want you. You are the payment.”
“I don’t understand,” said Hotch. “Payment for what?”
Dubhlainn turned to Hotch and said, “The family were dishonoured. In recompense, they are demanding the cause of their dishonour to be given to them to do with as they please. It is an ancient law and very rarely invoked. However, it must be upheld.”
Reid’s mouth was dry. “They want to have me as a slave?” he asked faintly.
Dubhlainn shook his head. “I doubt that,” he said sadly. “They are kin to the Sluagh. You know what that means.”
Reid processed this information, draining the glass of whisky in his hand. A lifetime of slavery would be paradise in comparison to what they would do to him. They were creatures who thrived on pain and suffering. He willed his hands not to shake. He had heard all the stories; their cruelty was legendary and they had a tradition of torturing their captives as after dinner entertainment. They kept their “pets” alive as long as they could - years usually. Reid felt cold inside.
Hotch jumped to his feet. “It’s quite simple,” he said, “He won’t go. They have no jurisdiction here - you can’t enforce your laws in this country.”
Dubhlainn gave a snort. “He can run as far as he likes - they will find him and they will take him. Caoimhin is subject to the laws of his people.”
Reid looked up at Hotch, who had folded his arms and was glaring at his father. “Let me represent him then,” he said. “I want to see every detail of this law - there has to be a loophole and I will find it. He hasn’t even had a fair hearing.”
“This is not Ally McBeal,” replied Dubhlainn with a snarl. “There are no loopholes, no fancy arguments. The fairy tales you read to your son are sanitised versions of our lives - our laws are absolute and our punishments severe.” He paused and glared at Hotch. “There is no representation and there is no right of appeal.”
“And you are just going to let this happen?” asked Hotch, incredulous. “You people are savage.”
Reid watched as his father jumped to his feet, his eyes dark with anger. “Savage? Faerie justice is brutal but we have never pretended to be anything different.” The furniture shook as he spoke and sparks flew from his fingertips. “And do you think you humans are better? Human history is full of your acts of atrocity - how can the species who murdered six million of your own in the last century lecture me on savagery?”
Hotch swallowed and continued to glower at Dubhlainn. “None of this helps Spencer,” he replied. “He’s your son and there has to be something you can do.”
Dubhlainn’s tone was icy. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I have been negotiating and urging the King to find another way. He has already risked enough by refusing to allow them to flay him alive. The law exists and if the King denies them, it will lead to all out war.” His shoulders dropped and his voice fell. “I am doing everything in my power,” he muttered.
Reid swallowed hard at the mention of flaying. He shook his head and tried to comprehend what his father was saying. He was going to be handed over to a group of sadists because he had somehow offended them. The anger welled up inside him.
“This is so much bullshit!” he shouted. Both Hotch and his father turned to him in surprise. “This is why I never have anything to do with Faerie - because of all the stupid fucking bullshit!”
He stamped across the room, grabbing the whisky bottle and pouring himself another large measure. “I’m not going back and you can’t make me,” he snapped, slamming his hand on the counter. “It’s not fair.”
“I can make you and no, life isn’t fair,” replied Dubhlainn calmly.
“I left because I had to go to work and now I’m going to be enslaved and tortured for it?” yelled Reid, draining his glass and banging it hard on the counter. “This is BULLSHIT.”
He felt Hotch place a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off, furious with the whole situation. “What’s Ruairdrhi doing about it? They’re his stupid in-laws.”
“He can do nothing,” said Dubhlainn, “His wife’s family is very important. Ruairdrhi is less so.”
For a moment Reid stared at him, feeling his eyes welling up. “I got out of that shack in Georgia to be end up being given to . . . to . . .” He took a breath and then turned and hurled his glass at the wall, shouting, “Ignorant assholes who spend their lives waiting to be offended.” Then he stood still, breathing heavily and looking at the shattered pieces littering his floor.
“Caoimhin, Spencer, please,” urged Dubhlainn, taking a step towards him.
Reid looked aghast at both of them. “Just leave me the fuck alone!” he yelled, bringing his arm up and then pitching it forwards, throwing a ball of blue fire into the floor. His eyes widened and then he ran into the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him.
-----------------------------------
Hotch was stunned. He looked at Dubhlainn as the sound of sobbing echoed off tiled walls around the apartment. He started towards the bathroom.
Dubhlainn put out a hand. “Stay. If he wanted your comfort right now, he would be crying right here. Let him lock himself away for a moment and regain his dignity.”
“I can’t listen to this and do nothing,” gasped Hotch. Reid’s sobs grew louder and more desperate and were joined by the sound of him slamming his fist into the bathroom cabinet.
“Then don’t listen,” was Dubhlainn’s response and he took Hotch’s arm to lead him over to the couch. The faery flicked his hand at the stereo and the room filled with music. “Don’t listen,” he soothed, stroking his fingers over Hotch’s hair. “Let him howl if he needs to.”
The music was only partially successful at drowning out the anguished sounds coming from the bathroom, but Dubhlainn’s caress was strangely calming and Hotch was able to stay on the couch until the weeping died down.
He looked at Dubhlainn and asked, “Is there nothing we can do? I want to help him.”
Dubhlainn’s voice was soft. “Why?” he asked.
Hotch frowned. “I love him,” he replied - surprised at his own candour.
The response was a dramatic sigh. “I thought you’d never say it,” muttered Dubhlainn.
“What?”
The faery smirked. “There is one way to help him, but you needed to admit your feelings for him. The clan has demanded my son and that can only be challenged if someone else can claim ownership. You have a prior claim and you can fight for your property.”
“Fight for Spencer?” asked Hotch.
“Yes, you can fight for him. You will challenge their best fighter and if you are successful, you can keep him.”
“Keep me? I’m not a possession.” Reid’s voice was hoarse. Hotch and Dubhlainn looked up to see him standing there, arms wrapped protectively round his torso, his eyes red and swollen. “Why can’t I fight for myself?”
“Because you are the prize and the prize can’t fight,” replied Dubhlainn sharply.
Hotch stood up. Reid looked so defensive that he forced himself not to touch him. “I know you’re not a possession but I want to do this,” he said.
Reid swallowed and then spoke, his voice wobbling with emotion. “I don’t want anybody else to suffer for me. It’s a duel to the death and I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t even fight for my own life.”
“Life isn’t fair,” murmured Dubhlainn, moving to stroke Reid’s hair from his face. “Let Aaron Hotchner be your champion. He looks like he has a swordsman’s arms.”
Hotch turned to him. “Swordsman?” he asked, suddenly off balance. “I thought duels were fought with pistols?”
“Not in Faerie,” said Dubhlainn with a shake of his head. “Can you handle a broadsword?”
Hotch swallowed. “Strangely enough, I’ve never used one. I did do some fencing in college though.”
Dubhlainn looked him up and down appraisingly. “I think a Claymore is going to suit your build. I can stall them for a couple of days, so you have some time to train.”
“A couple of days?” gasped Hotch. “I don’t even have a sword.”
“I do,” offered Reid. “In my closet.” He turned and scurried out of the room. Hotch shook his head in disbelief. Last night had been strange enough, but events were now bordering on the ridiculous. He had now agreed to fight some malevolent creature to the death in order to save his lover from an unknown, yet terrifying fate. He pinched his arms hard - just in case.
Reid returned carrying a simple double edged sword. Rather than looking completely incongruous, the sight of him holding the weapon made perfect sense. Armed with a sword, Reid looked somehow otherwordly, more Fae than human.
Dubhlainn took the sword and weighed it in his hands, turning it over and running a finger across the flat of the blade. “At least you treat this with respect,” he muttered and then he looked up at Hotch. “Bladed weapons only - you need to practise with this. And you can use a back up as well.”
“What do you mean?” frowned Hotch.
“You carry two guns just in case,” smiled Dubhlainn. “It wouldn’t do any harm to have a little surprise tucked away.”
Hotch nodded slowly and took the sword Dubhlainn was holding out to him. It felt solid and yet light in his hands, the blade glinting as he turned it over. It was beautifully crafted - he just hoped he could do it justice.
He glanced up at Dubhlainn to see him wink. “I have every confidence in you, Aaron Hotchner of the FBI. I will be in touch regarding the actual contest.”
“Is this why you came before?” asked Hotch. “Did you already know what they wanted?”
Dubhlainn nodded. “Yesterday I thought his only chance was to put up the best fight he could when they came for him. We should have had time to train him up but the Clan insisted on being paid right away.” He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before continuing. “The King agreed to the duel but I needed you to say it out loud before your claim could mean anything.”
Reid scowled. “You should have been straight with me yesterday.”
Dubhlainn took hold of Reid’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Be strong a chuisle ,” he said softly, “You have a worthy champion.”
Reid sighed and then nodded. Dubhlainn placed a hand on Hotch’s shoulder and bent close to his ear. “Train hard,” he whispered, “And take my son to bed.”
After Dubhlainn had gone, Hotch placed the sword carefully on the table and turned to Reid. “When did I enter the Twilight Zone?” he asked, his voice gentle.
Reid managed a small smile. “I’m sorry,” he replied, “You shouldn’t have to get involved.”
Hotch shook his head. “It’s me who should apologise. I called you to come to work.”
Reid sighed. “Not your fault. I should have asked to be excused - I just wanted to get away and not have to deal with my Dad being angry with me again.” His voice caught. “I don’t want anyone to fight my battles for me.”
Hotch stepped forwards and embraced him. “It will be my privilege,” he murmured, pulling the young man close. Changing the subject, he added, ”I didn’t know you could throw fire.”
“Me neither,” replied Reid, his voice muffled by Hotch’s shoulder, “Yet another useless skill.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Hotch. “It would shut Morgan up - and that’s not to be underrated.”
-------------------------------------
Hotch spent most of the next day training with Reid’s sword instructor, who was delighted to have a willing pupil at last. He came from Faerie and explained to Hotch that he owed Dubhlainn a favour or two and like many of the faeries, had no love for the Clan that were demanding Reid.
It was hard work and Hotch’s arms and shoulders were aching at the end of it. But he at least felt he had gained a degree of competence. By the evening, he wanted nothing more than to sink into a deep hot bath, followed by a massage and a blow job, but there remained another call to make.
He needed to have a back up.
------------------------------------
John Blackwolf greeted Hotch with a folded arms and a solemn nod. “I thought that when I came to Washington, we would maybe get some dinner and a few drinks. Why have you asked me to teach you to handle a knife?” He smirked. “I thought Captain America preferred a little more firepower.”
Hotch sighed, letting the mockery wash over him. He explained the situation to Blackwolf, telling him the whole story and then waiting for the man to burst into laughter.
Instead Blackwolf gave him a knowing smile. “I knew he was Fae from the moment I met him.”
“You knew about Reid?” asked Hotch, surprised.
“Of course,” laughed Blackwolf. “I figured he wasn’t out, so I never mentioned it.”
He had recognised Reid as having Faerie ancestry as soon as they'd met and this had been confirmed by the seduction that night. Reid had been asking about Apache customs, stuttering and fiddling with his hair and before long, he and Blackwolf had been ripping each other’s clothes off. There had been a night of very noisy, very athletic sex and Blackwolf had been surprised at just how limber the young man was. He had feigned sleep as Reid stroked his fingers over his forehead before sneaking out of his room, knowing that he had the power to resist the memory charm.
Blackwolf snapped out of his reverie as Hotch cleared his throat. He decided not to mention that fact that he was one of Reid’s former lovers - he suspected Hotch would rather not know. Instead he looked seriously at him. “You need to be on your toes,” he warned, “Remember - they don’t play nice.”
“I gather that,” replied Hotch grimly, “Do you have much experience with these faeries?”
“A little,” said Blackwolf. “There are some encounters I would rather forget. Fair play isn’t in their vocabulary.” He picked up his knife and handed it to Hotch. “Now concentrate and listen to what I tell you.”
Blackwolf was firm, but patient, taking the time to ensure Hotch could keep his balance and throw the knife with power and accuracy. By the time Reid arrived to meet Hotch, Blackwolf was satisfied that he had taught the FBI man as much as he could for now.
Blackwolf nodded at Reid, amused by the nervous wave the young man gave him. It seemed strange that he was so averse to shaking hands in this setting and yet appeared to have no inhibitions whatsoever in bed. Blackwolf smiled at the memory of Reid’s mouth, licking and tasting all over his body, the way that Reid had looked at him, lips moist and parted, urging Blackwolf to take him again, to fuck him harder.
He turned to Hotch and embraced him briefly. “Keep this in your mind - inside twenty one feet you win,” he said. “And remember the saying - the man who fights for love has victory on his side.”
Hotch raised one eyebrow. “That’s an old Apache saying?”
“No,” said Blackwolf with a smile, “It’s Blackwolf, 2008. Good luck.”
------------------------------------
Despite the gravity of the situation, Reid allowed himself a moment to remember having sex with John Blackwolf. He had been an enthusiastic and uninhibited partner and seeing him today reminded him of a very satisfying night that ended only because of physical exhaustion. Of all the cops he had slept with while travelling for work, Blackwolf was one of his favourites, alongside Katie Cole and Cal McGee. He didn’t actively work on having sex with the lead officer on the cases they were assisting with, but sometimes, he just couldn’t help it.
And neither, it seemed, could they.
------------------------------------
The day of the duel seemed to arrive very quickly. Hotch wasn’t too sure how they got to Faerie - it all happened so fast. Reid seemed to be trying very hard to reassure him and Hotch attempted to appear reassured. He didn’t tell him that he would rather have spent a weekend camping with Vincent Perotta than go through the next few hours.
Dubhlainn was solemn, greeting Hotch with extreme politeness, and embracing Reid, stroking his hand over the young man’s hair.
They stood in silence for a moment and then Dubhlainn turned to Hotch, looking him up and down. “Is that what you are wearing?”
Hotch frowned at him. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” He had opted for comfort and ease of movement.
Dubhlainn gave an exaggerated sigh. “If you really have to ask, then there is no point in explaining. All my clothes are couture and blood can be a devil to get out.” He thought for a moment. “You’d better borrow something from Tristan.”
At the mention of his brother’s name, Reid scowled. Dubhlainn placed both hands on his shoulders and looked hard at him. “He’s in the hall. Go now - there isn’t much time.”
Reid sighed and nodded, taking Hotch’s hand and leading him to the hall.
----------------------------------------------
Hotch looked at the young man, clad head to foot in black, who was leaning back in his chair, legs crossed and feet resting on the table in front of him. He nodded at them both, his chin held high. The family resemblance to Reid and his father was striking.
Reid shuffled his feet and gestured towards the man. “This is my . . . um . . . brother. Tristan.”
Hotch held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Aaron . . . Hotchner. Of the FBI.”
In response, Tristan slowly uncrossed his legs and planted each foot squarely and loudly on the floor. Then he stood up, his long body uncurling from his chair, and took Hotch’s hand. He bent his head and kissed it. “Delighted,” he said. Turning to Reid he added, “Very nice, Caoimhin. I see you still have good taste.”
“Stop it,” muttered Reid, looking uncomfortable. There was a pause and then he spoke again. “Can you, um, find Aaron something to wear?”
Tristan looked him up and down and smirked. “I guess so.” He turned and began to head out of the room. “Follow me.”
Hotch did as he was bade and followed Tristan down a series of corridors until they came to a large, lavishly decorated room. Tristan opened a closet door and began to sort through the items hanging there. Hotch watched him for a moment and then Tristan turned to him with a dangerous grin.
“So,” he said. “You’re the one who tamed our wildcat. Nice job.”
“Wildcat?” asked Hotch.
Tristan’s grin widened and his eyes twinkled mischievously. “My little brother isn’t as innocent as he makes out,” he said. He looked at Hotch, as though considering whether or not to say more and then turned back to rummaging through the clothes.
Tristan pulled out pair of black velvet pants with a matching tunic and handed them to Hotch. “These will fit you,” he said. “Put them on now.”
Hotch changed quickly into the clothes, surprised to find that they fitted him perfectly. Tristan watched him appraisingly, arms folded and head tilted to one side. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Hotch nodded and then followed Tristan back down to meet Reid.
The young man startled as they came back into the room. “You look like a fighter,” he said to Hotch and then flung his arms around him, pulling him close.
Hotch caressed him, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head. “It’ll be okay,” he soothed, “It will all be over soon.”
He felt Reid nod and held on to him, cuddling him until Reid pulled away. The young man turned to Tristan and spoke in a trembling voice. “Are you going to watch it?” he asked.
Tristan nodded. “Ruairdrhi is keeping out of the way. I’ll be there with Dad.”
Reid scowled. “I bet Dad would be glad to be rid of me,” he muttered.
Tristan gave a loud snort. “What?” he said, incredulous. “Why do you think he’s gone to so much trouble to try and save your life, you ungrateful little bastard?”
Reid coloured and he snapped at Tristan. “He doesn’t want me - he never did. He just doesn’t want to lose.”
Tristan shook his head. “I thought you were supposed to be smart - seems to me you’re pretty stupid. You’re his favourite - always have been.”
“That’s crap,” retorted Reid, hotly.
Tristan waved Reid’s protest away. “You haven’t seen him over the last few days - he has been desperate to find a way to save you. He’s driven the King almost mad. Dad would never admit it, but you are very special to him.”
“I don’t believe you,” muttered Reid, looking at the floor.
Tristan took hold of Reid’s chin and tilted it back, forcing the young man to look at him. “Well you’d better believe it,” he said, harshly. “When you were taken in Georgia, he was beside himself. The whole of Faerie was on edge.”
“Oh yeah?” scowled Reid. “Is that why he just left me there - helpless? I couldn’t move my hands, I couldn’t do anything!”
Tristan’s eyes flashed with anger. “He couldn’t find you - none of us could. We knew you were in trouble and nobody could get to you. There was old magic there, dark magic, and it stopped him reaching you. And then, when it was all over, he went to you and watched over you every night while you slept - for weeks.”
Reid was stunned. “I . . . I didn’t know,” he said softly.
Tristan let go of his chin and nodded. “If you ask him, he’ll deny it,” he said with a shrug. “Dad isn’t going to admit to having human feelings towards you. But we all know you’re his favourite child - the one he’d do anything for.”
Reid stared at his brother as Hotch put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, his eyes wide.
“Well you do now,” said Tristan dismissively. “But you didn’t hear it from me. Now say goodbye to your loverboy because they’re here for you.”
Reid gulped, suddenly scared. He glanced at the door, blanching as it opened and two of the King’s guards marched in. One carried a set of heavy looking chains. Reid reached for Hotch.
His lover took him in his arms and kissed him. Hotch held him tightly and for a moment Reid felt safe. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” replied Hotch quietly, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand.
Doing his best to remain calm, Reid took a deep breath and turned to face the guards. He stared straight ahead, his chin high, as they fastened the cold metal chains around his wrists and ankles. Then he allowed himself to be led away, shuffling in the shackles with as much dignity as he could manage.
Hotch stared after him, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. Very shortly he would be fighting some monster in order to save both his life and that of his lover. This was not part of his life plan.
“Don’t worry,” said Tristan cheerfully. “Dad won’t let them take him alive. If you fail, he’ll kill the kid himself.”
“Thanks,” muttered Hotch. “I guess I’m supposed to find that reassuring.”
“Better quickly and painlessly than what they’ll do to him,” Tristan responded, placing a hand on his arm. “Come on - it’s time.”
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Hotch waited at the edge of a small arena, just outside the castle grounds. There was a large crowd amassed on the rows of seats and he had tried very hard not to flinch at the appearance of the Clan on the opposite side. His opponent was pacing back and forth, being given last minute advice by his supporters.
Hotch gathered that his presence had caused quite a stir and that the odds against him winning were considerable. The creatures behind him were still taking bets and it seemed that the vast majority of spectators expected a short and bloody contest.
The King, at least, had been sympathetic, apologising to Hotch for the whole nature of the duel and wishing him all the best. The monarch now took his seat, with Dubhlainn and Tristan sitting grim faced next to him. There was a sudden buzz and muttering amongst the crowd and Hotch looked up to see the guards bringing Reid in.
Hotch inhaled sharply at the sight of Reid, heavily shackled, being led to a narrow cage at the edge of the arena. Reid had his head up and Hotch felt his heart tug a little at his bravery. The guards opened the cage and as Reid prepared to step inside, Hotch saw him falter a little, his breathing coming a little faster and the colour draining from his face. The young man stumbled into the coffin-like cage and stood facing straight ahead as the door was padlocked.
Hotch turned his head away and stared instead at his opponent. He needed to focus on the fight.
The Clansman spat onto the dirt floor of the arena and growled at Hotch. He was a good couple of feet taller and at least twice as broad. His skin was dark grey and scaly and Hotch was sure he could see fangs when the creature opened his mouth.
Hotch tightened his grip on the sword and bounced from foot to foot, full of nervous energy. He thought enviously of the scene where Indiana Jones, faced with a sword wielding enemy, wearily pulls out his gun and shoots him. Unfortunately, his sidearm was in another dimension so he was going to have to go through with the fight. He had faced down serial killers, dealt with some of the most despicable human beings - of course he could beat a supernatural creature.
The King stood up, ready to start the duel. Hotch took a deep breath. It was time.
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For the next few minutes, Hotch tried hard to empty his head of any thought. He needed to act instinctively - move and countermove, strike and parry. He was light footed, twisting his body, ducking and dodging, springing agilely across the dirt floor, forcing his bulkier opponent to follow on heavy footsteps.
The Clansman was strong, each clashing blow sending shockwaves through the steel of Hotch’s sword and reverberating through his body. Hotch kept on blocking, reacting to each attack and fighting defensively. He was growing breathless, aware of the sweat trickling down his face, but he wouldn’t allow himself to glance at the crowd. He needed to focus.
The Clansman pulled his arm back and then gave a sweeping blow that sent Hotch’s sword clattering from his hand. Hotch tumbled and rolled away from his opponent, trying to catch his breath and reach for the stiletto blade in his boot at the same time. He crouched, peering over his shoulder as the creature advanced. This was make or break time.
“Twenty-one feet,” muttered Hotch, “Come on, twenty-one feet.” He moved his arm slowly behind his thigh, shielding the knife from the Clansman’s view.
The ground shook as his opponent advanced. Hotch heard a rumble of anticipation as the creature raised his sword which was soon drowned out by a roaring in his ears. He twisted his arm, drew it back and then threw the knife with all the force he could manage.
It hit the Clansman in the eye and as the creature staggered backwards in surprise, Hotch made a grab for his sword. He leaped at his opponent and decapitated him with a single swinging blow.
There was a moment of silence as the crowd processed what had just happened and then a huge cheer filled the air. Hotch sank to his knees, exhausted. It was over.
He stayed that way for a little while, aware of the noise and bustle around him but with no strength to move. He had just killed to save his lover’s life. He wasn’t sure how to feel right now - other than not to feel anything at all. Hotch closed his eyes and wished he was anywhere else but here.
He became aware of someone standing next to him and looked up. Dubhlainn was holding out a hand and Hotch took it and let him pull him to his feet. The faery beamed at him. . “Not bad, Aaron Hotchner of the FBI, not bad at all,” he said, nodding approvingly. “The Clan are more than a little disgruntled, naturally, but a fair win is not to be quibbled with. Congratulations.”
The King stepped forwards, taking Hotch’s face in his hands and kissing him on both cheeks. “A most excellent victory,” he said, “And very accomplished - for a human.” He grinned at Hotch and clicked his fingers. “Bring Aaron Hotchner his prize.”
The crowd parted as two guards made their way though, leading Reid who was still shackled. The King gestured towards him. “All yours,” he said to Hotch. “Your claim of ownership has been thoroughly ratified.”
The guards stepped away and Hotch looked at his lover. “Can somebody unlock him, please?” he asked, slightly confused as to why this hadn’t been done before.
The King clapped his hands and the guards bustled around Reid, unlocking the cuffs and unwinding the chains. When Reid was free, Hotch held out his arms and his lover fell into them. Hotch held him close, inhaling the scent of his hair and clutching at his thin frame. It was over.
A hand on his ass caused Hotch to turn his head. Dubhlainn was standing next to him. “You will be joining us for the celebration,” he said in a silky voice.
Hotch shook his head. He just wanted to get out of here. “That’s very kind, but - “
“It wasn’t a request,” interrupted Dubhlainn, with a maddening smile. “Go and relieve some tension and then join us in the Castle Hall.”
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Reid held tight to his lover’s hand as they walked to the Castle Hall. He didn’t want to let him go. The tension of the last few days had been tremendous and now it was all over, he just wanted to hold him. He had never imagined that he would feel this way about anybody nor that there would ever be someone willing to risk their life to fight for him.
As soon as they were alone, they had been pulling each other’s clothes off, covering each other’s bodies with frantic wet kisses. They hadn’t even made it to the bed and his back was going to bear the bruises from a hard fuck against the wall for a few days to come.
It was worth it.
-------------------------------------------
Reid barely left Hotch’s side throughout the feast and was impressed by how comfortable his lover seemed. If Hotch was freaked out by any of this, he wasn’t showing it.
The feast was followed by music, which led to dancing. Dubhlainn urged Hotch to his feet and very soon, Reid had almost lost sight of his lover, whirling and dancing in the happy throng of revellers. Tristan was playing, his bow showering the crowd with silver sparks as he led them all into a dance of pure joy.
The music and dancing continued and after a while, Reid was joined on the bench by his father.
“Your Hotch is having fun,” he said, placing a hand over Reid’s.
Reid nodded, eyes focussed on the dance floor. “Yes, he is.”
“And you,” continued Dubhlainn, “Are you happy?”
Confused, Reid turned to him. “What do you mean?”
Dubhlainn’s face softened. “Whether you believe it or not, your happiness matters to me. And if your human makes you happy, then good luck to you both.” He paused. “I still think you are wasting your talents. Won’t you at least consider modelling?”
Reid shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied softly. He smiled as Hotch joined them on the bench.
Wiping the back of his hand across his brow, Hotch exhaled loudly. “Wow,” he said with a grin, “I’ve never experienced anything quite like that before.”
“Our world has a lot to recommend it,” said Dubhlainn, looking pointedly at his son. “Take a look at the gardens before you go.”
Reid nodded and taking Hotch’s hand, led him out of the Hall and down a short corridor to a small wooden door. He pushed open the door and Hotch followed him onto a small balcony overlooking an ornate garden. There were tiny glowing lights hung from all the trees and plants, illuminating it beautifully in the darkness. Some of the plants gave off a dazzling sheen, like precious metals, and the effect was always breathtaking.
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Hotch, looking around. “The whole place - it’s amazing.” He turned to Reid. “Haven’t you ever felt tempted to stay here?”
Reid shook his head and gave his lover a rueful smile. “I don’t belong,” he replied. “I would have to give up too much to stay.” He sighed and looked out over the gardens. “I don’t really belong in America either, but at least I do something useful there.”
They stood in silence for a moment, both taking in the view. Then Hotch spoke. “Tristan said something to me - about you being a wildcat.” He turned to Reid. “Was he just making mischief?”
Thankful that the darkness could hide the blush spreading over his cheeks, Reid swallowed hard. Still facing forward, his voice trembled slightly as he spoke. “I, um, I’ve had some . . . um, there’s been a few others,” he replied. “I’ve had a couple of boyfriends before.” He twisted his hands awkwardly together.
Hotch nodded. “I’m not interested in your past,” he said gently, “I just need to know that it’s just you and me from now on. Just the two of us.”
Relieved, Reid turned to Hotch and pulled him close. He knew Hotch would find it difficult to understand his past and was just glad that he didn’t want to know about it. “It’s just us,” he mumbled, resting his head on Hotch’s chest. “I don’t want anybody else now that I’ve got you.”
Stroking his lover’s hair, Hotch murmured, “That’s good, because I don’t want anybody else either.”
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As Hotch and Reid prepared to return to Washington, the King presented Hotch with silver chain. “You are always welcome here, Aaron Hotchner of the FBI,” he said.
Dubhlainn embraced his son, holding tightly to Reid and kissing the top of his head. “Slán agus beannacht leat,” he whispered. “A chuisle mo chroi.”
Then he turned to Hotch and nodded warmly at him. “Go safely back to your serial killers,” he said, “And we will see you in a few months for the King’s birthday celebrations.”
Hotch cleared his throat. “I’m very flattered to be asked, but-“
Dubhlainn leaned forwards and kissed Hotch chastely on the lips. “It wasn’t a request,” he said softly. He bowed deeply to them both and then returned to the feast.
As they found themselves back in Reid’s apartment, Hotch shook his head resignedly. “Does he ever take no for an answer?” he asked.
Reid looked up at him and smiled. “Never,” he said. “My dad is pretty much irresistible.”
Hotch kissed his cheek. “You know what?” he smirked. “I think it runs in the family.”
THE END
Love is what you’ve been through with somebody
James Thurber