Biological Trigger (3/4)
Title: Biological Trigger (3/4)
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Criminal Minds; Hotch/Reid
Warnings/Notes: set immediately post Corazon. Established relationship; angsty h/c fic. language. Sex.
Word Count: 4,690
Summary: To avoid what Reid fears the most, he just might have to give up the one thing he’s realized he desperately wants.
Spencer wasn’t fragile, not in the slightest. Hotch knew it better than almost anyone, had known it in the moment he saw Spencer face Tobias Hankel and a loaded gun only to be reminded all over again when Spencer hobbled to his apartment on crutches with an improperly medicated knee, just to see with his own eyes that Hotch was alright. Spencer had been his rock, then, and he’d seen firsthand that the man they so often called a boy was more than capable of carrying him through. He’d learned young after all, learned how to look after his mother and race forward at the speed of a prodigy while pretending outwardly that she was looking out for him.
Spencer absolutely wasn’t fragile, but that had little to do with how much he looked it sometimes, thin and weary with dark circles under his eyes that only ever seemed to grow darker. He brought out every instinct Hotch had to shelter and protect, and sometimes, fragile or not, Spencer did need protecting. He had a tendency to take on too much, and while he might excel under certain kinds of pressure when it came to matters less easy to logic his way through he was just as likely to stumble as anyone else. On a team that drew some of the most battered souls he certainly wasn’t out of place, but even after years beside them he still had a hard time believing al those hands never minded reaching up to catch him. Like Morgan with overall trust, Reid needed to learn he wasn’t something that’d ever lead them to cut their losses and run.
Reid certainly looked fragile then, in the door of his bedroom slouched so hard against the doorframe it seemed to be all that was holding him up. He’d taken his contacts out but he kept rubbing at hs eyes anyway, and in Hotch’s head he added a little more emphasis to ‘ocular pain’ on the running list he was keeping of Spencer’s migraine symptoms.
“I um, it’s been so long since we-“
“I know; I put sheets on the bed.” It had warmed him to see there weren’t any, to be honest. He had to have come over here, grabbed clothes and books and washed sheets only to leave them off because he knew he wouldn’t be coming back. It was past time they made it official, past time they bought a place with a yard for the puppy Jack wanted and a library for Spencer’s books. Maybe in a few days when things felt a little smoother, he’d bring it up. He’d already stripped doen to his t-shirt and boxers while Spencer was in the bathroom, and after tugging the blankets down far enough on Spencer’s side he crossed the room to pull Spencer away from the wall and into his arms. Reid’s fingers rested on the top button of his shirt, stilled and ineffective, and Hotch batted them away. “Here. Let me.”
Undressing him in a lot of ways felt like second nature by that point, his fingertips flicking quickly over familiar buttons. Typically, he’d have barely had it starting to slide off Reid’s shoulders before his hands slipped under the thin white t-shirt beneath to touch his skin. He loved the feel of Reid’s chest under his hands, of the stutter his heartbeat would make against his palm if he bent his head to bite down on the pale skin at Spencer’s throat. For the moment, everything was different. This wasn’t about baring his skin to Aaron’s touch, was nothing more than comfort and he tried to make that clear, squeezing lightly at Spencer’s shoulders over his undershirt as the button down tumbled to the floor.
When he let go to shift his attention down to Spencer’s belt, he was distracted by long fingers curving against his throat, tipping his chin. Spencer said once he’d kissed five people before Hotch, none of them for long enough to ever feel like he’d reached the full potential of the experience. Early on, he’d never felt experienced enough to be confidant, but that had certainly dropped away fairly fast.
Now, he kissed with a kind of intensity that to Hotch seemed wholly Spencer, as focused and driven as it was warm and intimate. The flick of Spencer’s tongue against his lips was enough to coax him to chase it, his hands flexing against the leather of Spencer’s belt at the first taste of his mouth. They almost always restricted themselves on cases, kept all their energy and focus for the unsub and the chase, and they hadn’t shared more than a brief chaste kiss in days. The noise that rose from the back of Spencer’s throat was just soft enough to feel more whimper than moan, swallowed by Hotch’s mouth still working against his. The sharp tug of arousal the sound brought on had him itching to push forward, to pin Reid all the way against the doorframe and feel that lithe body pressed against his. All the things he absolutely wasn’t going to do, not right now when the man was in too much pain for him to ever feel right about it.
Breathless, Aaron turned his head. “You need to rest; I know you’re tired.”
“It’s alright.” Spencer’s breath warmed his skin, his lips damp against his jaw. He tried to keep his attention on his own hands, yanked the belt all the way out to shove Spencer’s pants down to the floor. Hotch tugged him forward to step out of his clothes, barefoot on the hardwood without the shoes and socks he must have taken off in the bathroom. The light in the hall was the last one on, and Aaron hooked his arm around the wall to slap the switch down, plunging them into as much darkness as Spencer’s room ever reached. While Spencer was gone and he’d been making the bed he’d realized that if Spencer had been gone long enough he’d stopped keeping his room ready, the nightlight wouldn’t be plugged in either. He’d learned long ago that even if he tried to make himself to keep from asking, Spencer couldn’t sleep comfortably without it. It clawed at something in Hotch when he thought about, questions of whether the fear had always been that strong ever since Riley Jenkins or if the BAU had brought it on, innate fear heightened by the knowledge of exactly what kinds of things could be shielded in shadows.
Before he could take another step back toward the bed Reid’s hand was on his neck again, holding on just tight enough to keep him in place as he leaned in to press a light kiss to the corner of Aaron’s lips.
“Thank you.” As he whispered, his grip tightened. “For coming here, for…” Reid swallowed, his throat trying to work around the words. Hotch turned his head just enough to block him with a proper kiss, kept it slow and easy until he could feel Reid relaxing against him. He wasn’t about to let Reid thank him for that. Being here for him wasn’t a chore, no matter what.
“Come on. Bed.”
Reid was at times both impossible and wonderful to sleep with. Asleep, he was gangly like a pup that had yet to grow into its legs, and he slept with a restlessness that had often had Hotch waking three and four times a night. Still, when he settled it was against warmth, long limbs wrapped around Hotch with his head tucked in close and honestly, even though he loved this man enough to have put up with it regardless, that made the restless nights worth it.
Trying to orient himself in a bed he hadn’t used for months he shuffled around until the blankets were all sufficiently untucked, finally going nearly limp with one arm twisted back behind his head beneath his pillow. Beside him, Hotch kept just enough space to feel Reid’s body heat radiating towards him but not quite enough to actually press close. He had to keep just enough distance to remind himself now wasn’t the time to touch as much as he wanted; Spencer would sleep and he could watch and worry and maybe when he woke up in the morning he could reassure himself the way he desperately wanted to, mapping every inch of Spencer’s body under his hands.
With as long as it had been since he lived alone, silence had become a rare thing. Jack was always running somewhere or laughing or kicking a soccer ball against his closet door(no matter how many times they told him not to). Spencer talked more than Haley ever had, to him and Jack and the team on the phone, to the TV, to the room at large…their apartment was never quiet. At Spencer’s old place there wasn’t even a ticking clock, nothing but the faint whir of the air conditioner and Spencer’s steady breathing. The sheets didn’t even rustle for the longest time, draped stationary over his abnormally still frame.
“It’s barely half past ten.” Spencer’s voice seemed just a little louder in the dark, and a hell of it lot steadier than it had been in the kitchen. There was the slightest undercurrent of amusement there even, enough to make a smile pull at Hotch’s lips too.
“You can sleep anywhere.”
“On the jet earlier I-“
“Weren’t actually sleeping; you might can fool Morgan but I’ve seen the real thing enough to know.”
Spencer shifted closer. “People use them interchangeably, but being tired or exhausted and being sleepy actually aren’t the same thing.” Rather than answer, Hotch let his palm settle on Spencer’s chest, right over his heart. The way the beat leapt at his touch was something he’d never get used to. The hand Spencer had had under the pillow raked through his own hair, a motion that had long ago become habit to pull it away from his eyes but wasn’t really needed these days. “I wanted to go to you, the other night in Miami. I felt like hell and I-” He shook his head, licking his lips as his hand dragged absently through his hair again. “I always miss this in hotels but I kept falling asleep in chairs at the station and wishing….in the end, I talked myself out of it,”
“I wish you hadn’t.” True, but only with half conviction. It was a hard thing sometimes, being his lover and his leader. He had to balance it well, he didn’t have a choice because if Strauss ever had reason to think he was in any way sheltering Reid, she’d come down on the team so hard he wouldn’t be able to protect them. Times like this, it was a choice he hated having to make. Part of him(the louder part) told him that Spencer was his priority, his, and keeping him safe had to be treated accordingly. The rest of him, the bits he had to make himself listen to, those parts knew that without Reid being exactly where he was when the case ended there was a good chance the unsub would’ve gotten away with it. They had drawn the case to a successful end only through this man’s bravery and skill. Even when it hurt him, so long as it was feasible Reid had to maintain his position on team at all hours, just like the rest of them.
Hotch rubbed his thumb lightly across the fabric of Reid’s shirt, the fabric thin enough it was almost as warm as touching his skin. “You’re not sleepy then.”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Reid,-“
“It actually is a little better, in here. The dark helps, the lack of movement, the relative quiet; I’m alright. Besides, I want…” His physical confidence might have risen, but when it came to words, no matter how much he’d dominate the conversation on any other subject, on this subject he tended to go quiet. Substituting action instead he pulled Hotch down to meet him in a kiss, moaning enticingly when Hotch couldn’t help but respond. He might could keep a little distance, but keeping his hands to himself with Reid’s tongue lightly licking its way into his mouth was another matter entirely. He’d thought more than anything Spencer needed to rest, but honestly this might be exactly what they both needed.
Reid pressed against him, one long leg beginning to slip between his before Hotch pushed him back flat on his back.
“You mentioned lack of movement.”
He could feel the beginnings of a smile against his lips before they were kissing again, his hand cupping Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head back. With better access the kiss was just a little deeper, a little more thorough, and he moaned when Spencer responded by gripping blindly at the sleeve of his shirt. Spencer’s hip was pressed flush against him and he could feel his cock swelling at the pressure, eager to respond. His thoughts swirled, logic against want and need and instinct. He gave just a little more ground, let his hips roll forward against his lover. Spencer, always vocal, hummed his appreciation as his grip tightened.
God, Hotch wanted him.
“You’re sure.” It wasn’t quite a question, not really, because he had to trust Reid enough to know that he’d say if he wasn’t, that in this he would hide nothing. Still, he couldn’t help but say it.
“In a 1988 study in Oklahoma, sex actually immediately stopped the migraines of twenty percent of tested women who suffered chronic headaches. A further forty percent reported improvement and really,” He rambled at close to top speed, his breath a constant soft stream against Aaron’s skin, only broken when he paused to tip his head up and suck lightly over Aaron’s pulse. He had a definite unspoken kink for Hotch’s teeth and tongue against his throat, and he was almost equally fond of returning the favor. “-it makes biochemical sense. Orgasm releases not only endorphins but additional substances aimed at euphoria and pain relief; it’s a natural method of self-medication. So if you want to help-“
“Oh I’ll help.” After all, who was he to argue with science? “But.” He shifted, rolled over so he could cover Reid’s body completely with his. They fit together just right, his thigh sliding easily between Spencer’s legs. At the sudden shock of weight and heat and enticing pressure to thrust against, Reid’s hips bucked up against him. He was already hard, the long line of his cock unmistakable against Aaron’s thigh, and for a minute his plans faltered with the desire to simply take him like this. Years ago, after the divorce but before Canada, back at their beginning, he’d had Spencer drunk and writhing and pressed up against his living room wall. They’d only just started to have sex and he’d been Spencer’s first and all of it was heady and new and he melted oh so easily under Hotch’s hands. When he came right there, head knocked back against the wall as he rode the thigh pressed hard between his slim hips, Hotch had been filled with a rush of fierce possession. This beautiful man had somehow chosen him, let him and only him take him apart and see him like this, open and brilliant and breathtaking. There was nothing like what Spencer did to him, not in all the world. Hotch nuzzled against his ear, one hand reaching back to catch Spencer’s as he reached for the hem of Hotch’s shirt.
“Shh. Be still. Just let me take care of you.”
He gave in with only a token sigh of protest, pacified by Hotch’s kiss and the slide of his hands under Spencer’s shirt. Hotch pushed it up past his ribs and left it there for long enough to sit up and take off his own shirt first, tossing it absently back over his head. At home everyone needed to be easy to find, within close enough reach of the bed that they could pull at least boxers back on before falling asleep. Jack was learning a lot of things, but he still hadn’t learned to reliably knock when he woke up absurdly early to go watch cartoons. Here, it wouldn’t matter.
Once he pulled Spencer’s shirt all the way over his head he had bare skin stretched out before him, could touch and mark and soothe with his tongue. He slid down in the bed, kisses trailing from Spencer’s jaw down across his chest. He paused a little on his nipples but paid more attention to his ribs, just a little too pronounced under his skin. He traced them, teeth nipping light enough to be little more than a tease. Beneath him Spencer squirmed, whining, and he turned his head to gather skin between his teeth, sucking just hard enough to be sure he’d leave a mark. Spencer’s fingers buried in his hair, jerking a little as he struggled between the urge to pull Aaron’s mouth up to his and he urge to keep that mouth right where it was. The latter won out and he clutched him close, breath heavy as one hand slid down to knead encouragingly at the nape of his neck.
His handiwork was hard to see in the low light but he knew it’d be easily visible the next day, like the mark he’d once left on Spencer’s neck that had drawn Morgan’s teasing faster than flies to honey. It’s easy enough to lose himself in this, in the taste and the sounds and the exploration of the wonderfully familiar and ever changing body before him. He had learned his scars early on but in their job something new came all the time, a disconcerting scrapbook of cases and fears, times he had at least a second if not more to fear that he could be losing Spencer for good.
Tonight with all the fear that had shaken Spencer’s voice, all those old worries rest extra fresh on his mind, and before he exactly consciously decided to he reached for Spencer’s right arm to stretch it down beside him. His kisses were more gentle there, more hesitant in their searching, and when he reached to first of the track marks at the inside of his elbow he stopped altogether, lips pressed unmoving over it as he took a deep breath to steady them both. He’s thought before about marking him here and he couldn’t help but think it again, to wonder what kind of good if any it might do for him to look down and see proof of Aaron in stark relief right there. The part of him that wanted to try it was always fierce and loud, insistent that if in that moment before he slipped the needle in his vein he was reminded of just how desperately he was loved, he might change his mind. The quiet part that always won feared just how deeply it might hurt to find out that it wasn’t enough.
Hotch nuzzled against the soft skin, tried not to be distracted by the clamoring fears in his head that reminded him of the way Reid had said “Not yet”. Not yet, like a forgone conclusion, like when his fear got even worse than it was tonight he’d run even farther, all the way to the escape he’d tried to leave behind. In the midst of worrying about the present problems he hadn’t wanted to lose his focus, to let Reid shake him off the scent and onto something else, but it had hurt in a way that still burned his lungs with the desire to say, “Why can’t you just come to me?”. Logically, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Reid did come to him when he had cravings. Sometimes he told him how he was feeling and sometimes he didn’t but Hotch could always tell, could see it in the dance of his fingers and set of his shoulders, could hear it in his words. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they played cards, sometimes they made love and sometimes Hotch fucked him until he was too limp to twitch. Once, they’d taken Jack to play basketball and Reid had thrown the ball with more force than strictly necessary against the backboard and rambled to the two of them about physics and foul shots and the angle of entry until the tremors in his hand had stopped.
Spencer did come to him, when he could. There were cravings and then there were cravings and deep down Hotch knew that, but none of that knowledge made the fact that there was a level he could do nothing about feel any better.
“Aaron, you know I’d never…not with Jack in the house. I’d never bring dilaudid home.” The whisper sounded half broken but all the way certain, and Aaron almost wished he hadn’t let his worry lead him to this because he was supposed to be distracting Spencer, not making him feel worse.
He didn’t answer at first, kissed his way across the constellation of dots there close to the crease until he felt the tension in Reid’s arm start to relax. “I do know that.” He was absolutely certain of it, and he had been for a long time. The people he trusted he truly trusted, and with Spencer now a parent to Jack too, he knew that the boy meant the world to him. He’d never risk being high around Jack, never risk needles and vials when he knew Jack had a habit of going through Spencer’s bag to try to find a book they were reading together. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t come here, or go somewhere I won’t find you.” And it frightens me.
If they really started to have that conversation, to talk about dilaudid and hotel rooms and cravings, neither of them would sleep. With hard conversations, one for the night was more than enough. Hotch pulled himself away from the scars, brought his lips back to Spencer’s and their bodies back in alignment, and he kissed him with abject hunger until Reid responded with the same, cock fully hard again, nails digging into Hotch’s back to hold on as they moved together. It was transporting, immersive and perfect, and the more Reid moaned his name between kisses the more he thought about the feel of Reid’s cock on his tongue, the taste and the wet slide of it across his lips and the fact that just then, he could make Reid scream with no one to hear it.
Hotch pulled his boxers down and off before Reid’s, lust pooling hot in his belly when he touched fabric damp from Reid’s leaking cock. He was close enough that it wouldn’t be long if Hotch didn’t stretch it out, and that was exactly how he wanted it. Semantics aside he knew Reid was exhausted, knew his desire here was driven more by emotion and days apart than by an honest lack of weariness. With Spencer warm and orgasm limp in his arms, he’d be out like a light.
He didn’t make it halfway down Spencer’s chest before he stopped him, fingers twisting into a grip of the short hair at the base of his skull.
“Aaron,” He panted, lips damp and swollen from his kisses. The slight tug back up was unmistakable. “Please.”
It twisted at him, desire at the strung out way Reid whispered and a little bit of guilt at the way he begged before he even asked. He took only a moment to pull away and fish in the nightstand before he gathered Reid as close as he could, bodies impossible tangled. He flipped the cap open, tipped the bottle to coat his left hand before wrapping it around Spencer’s cock. Spencer’s face was already buried in his neck, and at the touch his whole body shivered.
“Is this what you wanted?” Hotch whispered right up against his ear, his voice pitched low with arousal.
“Fuck, your hands…” The lack of eloquence is a turn on of its own, a sign he’s too far gone to ramble about instinct and biology and exactly what it was about Aaron’s hand on his dick that got him so riled up(He has, however, talked about it afterward, postulating everything from gun callouses to the left handed grip giving his body one more reminder that it’s the hand of his partner he’s feeling. Hotch thinks it’s simpler than that. They both love a multitude of things when they’re together and like this they can kiss and touch and hold onto each other with a unique kind of ease and sometimes, that’s exactly what they need.).
He kept his face hidden against Hotch’s neck, kept breathing him in and whimpering against his throat, and when he came the grip he’d shifted to Hotch’s hip turned hard enough o bruise as he cried out. There was a certain shakiness to his hands after, not quite yet limp but not quite steady, at least not until his fingers wrapped around Hotch’s length that had been pressed against the jut of his hip. Hotch started to say “It’s alright.” because really, this was about Reid and he didnt have to have anything, but before he even finished the words Reid whispered, “Not a chance.”.
Reid kissed him, wet and lingering, stretching it out until he drew back enough to say “Come for me.” because Reid knew what it did to him, because it was a question and not a command, because somehow the act of Reid asking lit fire in his veins. When he came everything narrowed down to beautifully long fingers around him and that voice and Spencer’s name on his lips.
After he wiped them both down a little with boxers(his, he thought, but he wasn’t really paying attention), Spencer shuffled around in the sheets again, twisting his knee painfully once before he seemed to find just the right way to half drape over Hotch’s chest. His fingers played against Reid’s spine, counting vertebrae.
“How’s the headache?”
“Unfortunately I’m not among the 20%. You can’t cure me with sex.”
His soft laughter shook Reid a bit on his chest, and he could feel the smile as Reid turned his head enough to kiss him somewhere in the middle.
“I might be in the 40%, though. It’s not quite as bad.”
“I’m glad. You might have a use for me yet.” He meant it lighthearted, teasing, but al oat as soon as he said it it seemed to ring too close to everything serious, to the way he’d felt as Reid tried to tell him he wanted to face his greatest fear alone.
Reid must have caught it, the atmosphere or something in his sudden not quite shortness of breath. The fingers that had been trailing through the hair on his chest stopped, curling in on themselves. “Hotch, I didn’t want…it’s just, I know what it could mean for you and Jack and I-“
“I understand.” And he did, mostly, even if it hurt. Against Spencer’s back his fingers pressed a little more firmly, a solid presence. “But I’m in this. I need you to know I mean that.” Even if it took a while, though he couldn’t help but hope he’d earned quite a bit of Spencer’s trust already.
“I love you.” Usually, it made his heart jump. Just then, it seemed to make it beat more evenly, a return to equilibrium.
“I love you too.” Words he’d been dying to speak since to doctor came up rose in his throat, and though he didn’t want to push it seemed his best chance. “I’d like you to see another doctor. I think we need a second opinion and-” Spencer nodded, and maybe he should quit while he was ahead but…”-I wish you’d let me come with you.”
Spencer didn’t make him wait as long as he feared he might. His hand uncurled, fingers resting comfortable just over his ribs where they could feel the rise and fall. “Maybe.”
Maybe. For now, that was good enough.
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Criminal Minds; Hotch/Reid
Warnings/Notes: set immediately post Corazon. Established relationship; angsty h/c fic. language. Sex.
Word Count: 4,690
Summary: To avoid what Reid fears the most, he just might have to give up the one thing he’s realized he desperately wants.
Spencer wasn’t fragile, not in the slightest. Hotch knew it better than almost anyone, had known it in the moment he saw Spencer face Tobias Hankel and a loaded gun only to be reminded all over again when Spencer hobbled to his apartment on crutches with an improperly medicated knee, just to see with his own eyes that Hotch was alright. Spencer had been his rock, then, and he’d seen firsthand that the man they so often called a boy was more than capable of carrying him through. He’d learned young after all, learned how to look after his mother and race forward at the speed of a prodigy while pretending outwardly that she was looking out for him.
Spencer absolutely wasn’t fragile, but that had little to do with how much he looked it sometimes, thin and weary with dark circles under his eyes that only ever seemed to grow darker. He brought out every instinct Hotch had to shelter and protect, and sometimes, fragile or not, Spencer did need protecting. He had a tendency to take on too much, and while he might excel under certain kinds of pressure when it came to matters less easy to logic his way through he was just as likely to stumble as anyone else. On a team that drew some of the most battered souls he certainly wasn’t out of place, but even after years beside them he still had a hard time believing al those hands never minded reaching up to catch him. Like Morgan with overall trust, Reid needed to learn he wasn’t something that’d ever lead them to cut their losses and run.
Reid certainly looked fragile then, in the door of his bedroom slouched so hard against the doorframe it seemed to be all that was holding him up. He’d taken his contacts out but he kept rubbing at hs eyes anyway, and in Hotch’s head he added a little more emphasis to ‘ocular pain’ on the running list he was keeping of Spencer’s migraine symptoms.
“I um, it’s been so long since we-“
“I know; I put sheets on the bed.” It had warmed him to see there weren’t any, to be honest. He had to have come over here, grabbed clothes and books and washed sheets only to leave them off because he knew he wouldn’t be coming back. It was past time they made it official, past time they bought a place with a yard for the puppy Jack wanted and a library for Spencer’s books. Maybe in a few days when things felt a little smoother, he’d bring it up. He’d already stripped doen to his t-shirt and boxers while Spencer was in the bathroom, and after tugging the blankets down far enough on Spencer’s side he crossed the room to pull Spencer away from the wall and into his arms. Reid’s fingers rested on the top button of his shirt, stilled and ineffective, and Hotch batted them away. “Here. Let me.”
Undressing him in a lot of ways felt like second nature by that point, his fingertips flicking quickly over familiar buttons. Typically, he’d have barely had it starting to slide off Reid’s shoulders before his hands slipped under the thin white t-shirt beneath to touch his skin. He loved the feel of Reid’s chest under his hands, of the stutter his heartbeat would make against his palm if he bent his head to bite down on the pale skin at Spencer’s throat. For the moment, everything was different. This wasn’t about baring his skin to Aaron’s touch, was nothing more than comfort and he tried to make that clear, squeezing lightly at Spencer’s shoulders over his undershirt as the button down tumbled to the floor.
When he let go to shift his attention down to Spencer’s belt, he was distracted by long fingers curving against his throat, tipping his chin. Spencer said once he’d kissed five people before Hotch, none of them for long enough to ever feel like he’d reached the full potential of the experience. Early on, he’d never felt experienced enough to be confidant, but that had certainly dropped away fairly fast.
Now, he kissed with a kind of intensity that to Hotch seemed wholly Spencer, as focused and driven as it was warm and intimate. The flick of Spencer’s tongue against his lips was enough to coax him to chase it, his hands flexing against the leather of Spencer’s belt at the first taste of his mouth. They almost always restricted themselves on cases, kept all their energy and focus for the unsub and the chase, and they hadn’t shared more than a brief chaste kiss in days. The noise that rose from the back of Spencer’s throat was just soft enough to feel more whimper than moan, swallowed by Hotch’s mouth still working against his. The sharp tug of arousal the sound brought on had him itching to push forward, to pin Reid all the way against the doorframe and feel that lithe body pressed against his. All the things he absolutely wasn’t going to do, not right now when the man was in too much pain for him to ever feel right about it.
Breathless, Aaron turned his head. “You need to rest; I know you’re tired.”
“It’s alright.” Spencer’s breath warmed his skin, his lips damp against his jaw. He tried to keep his attention on his own hands, yanked the belt all the way out to shove Spencer’s pants down to the floor. Hotch tugged him forward to step out of his clothes, barefoot on the hardwood without the shoes and socks he must have taken off in the bathroom. The light in the hall was the last one on, and Aaron hooked his arm around the wall to slap the switch down, plunging them into as much darkness as Spencer’s room ever reached. While Spencer was gone and he’d been making the bed he’d realized that if Spencer had been gone long enough he’d stopped keeping his room ready, the nightlight wouldn’t be plugged in either. He’d learned long ago that even if he tried to make himself to keep from asking, Spencer couldn’t sleep comfortably without it. It clawed at something in Hotch when he thought about, questions of whether the fear had always been that strong ever since Riley Jenkins or if the BAU had brought it on, innate fear heightened by the knowledge of exactly what kinds of things could be shielded in shadows.
Before he could take another step back toward the bed Reid’s hand was on his neck again, holding on just tight enough to keep him in place as he leaned in to press a light kiss to the corner of Aaron’s lips.
“Thank you.” As he whispered, his grip tightened. “For coming here, for…” Reid swallowed, his throat trying to work around the words. Hotch turned his head just enough to block him with a proper kiss, kept it slow and easy until he could feel Reid relaxing against him. He wasn’t about to let Reid thank him for that. Being here for him wasn’t a chore, no matter what.
“Come on. Bed.”
Reid was at times both impossible and wonderful to sleep with. Asleep, he was gangly like a pup that had yet to grow into its legs, and he slept with a restlessness that had often had Hotch waking three and four times a night. Still, when he settled it was against warmth, long limbs wrapped around Hotch with his head tucked in close and honestly, even though he loved this man enough to have put up with it regardless, that made the restless nights worth it.
Trying to orient himself in a bed he hadn’t used for months he shuffled around until the blankets were all sufficiently untucked, finally going nearly limp with one arm twisted back behind his head beneath his pillow. Beside him, Hotch kept just enough space to feel Reid’s body heat radiating towards him but not quite enough to actually press close. He had to keep just enough distance to remind himself now wasn’t the time to touch as much as he wanted; Spencer would sleep and he could watch and worry and maybe when he woke up in the morning he could reassure himself the way he desperately wanted to, mapping every inch of Spencer’s body under his hands.
With as long as it had been since he lived alone, silence had become a rare thing. Jack was always running somewhere or laughing or kicking a soccer ball against his closet door(no matter how many times they told him not to). Spencer talked more than Haley ever had, to him and Jack and the team on the phone, to the TV, to the room at large…their apartment was never quiet. At Spencer’s old place there wasn’t even a ticking clock, nothing but the faint whir of the air conditioner and Spencer’s steady breathing. The sheets didn’t even rustle for the longest time, draped stationary over his abnormally still frame.
“It’s barely half past ten.” Spencer’s voice seemed just a little louder in the dark, and a hell of it lot steadier than it had been in the kitchen. There was the slightest undercurrent of amusement there even, enough to make a smile pull at Hotch’s lips too.
“You can sleep anywhere.”
“On the jet earlier I-“
“Weren’t actually sleeping; you might can fool Morgan but I’ve seen the real thing enough to know.”
Spencer shifted closer. “People use them interchangeably, but being tired or exhausted and being sleepy actually aren’t the same thing.” Rather than answer, Hotch let his palm settle on Spencer’s chest, right over his heart. The way the beat leapt at his touch was something he’d never get used to. The hand Spencer had had under the pillow raked through his own hair, a motion that had long ago become habit to pull it away from his eyes but wasn’t really needed these days. “I wanted to go to you, the other night in Miami. I felt like hell and I-” He shook his head, licking his lips as his hand dragged absently through his hair again. “I always miss this in hotels but I kept falling asleep in chairs at the station and wishing….in the end, I talked myself out of it,”
“I wish you hadn’t.” True, but only with half conviction. It was a hard thing sometimes, being his lover and his leader. He had to balance it well, he didn’t have a choice because if Strauss ever had reason to think he was in any way sheltering Reid, she’d come down on the team so hard he wouldn’t be able to protect them. Times like this, it was a choice he hated having to make. Part of him(the louder part) told him that Spencer was his priority, his, and keeping him safe had to be treated accordingly. The rest of him, the bits he had to make himself listen to, those parts knew that without Reid being exactly where he was when the case ended there was a good chance the unsub would’ve gotten away with it. They had drawn the case to a successful end only through this man’s bravery and skill. Even when it hurt him, so long as it was feasible Reid had to maintain his position on team at all hours, just like the rest of them.
Hotch rubbed his thumb lightly across the fabric of Reid’s shirt, the fabric thin enough it was almost as warm as touching his skin. “You’re not sleepy then.”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Reid,-“
“It actually is a little better, in here. The dark helps, the lack of movement, the relative quiet; I’m alright. Besides, I want…” His physical confidence might have risen, but when it came to words, no matter how much he’d dominate the conversation on any other subject, on this subject he tended to go quiet. Substituting action instead he pulled Hotch down to meet him in a kiss, moaning enticingly when Hotch couldn’t help but respond. He might could keep a little distance, but keeping his hands to himself with Reid’s tongue lightly licking its way into his mouth was another matter entirely. He’d thought more than anything Spencer needed to rest, but honestly this might be exactly what they both needed.
Reid pressed against him, one long leg beginning to slip between his before Hotch pushed him back flat on his back.
“You mentioned lack of movement.”
He could feel the beginnings of a smile against his lips before they were kissing again, his hand cupping Spencer’s jaw to tilt his head back. With better access the kiss was just a little deeper, a little more thorough, and he moaned when Spencer responded by gripping blindly at the sleeve of his shirt. Spencer’s hip was pressed flush against him and he could feel his cock swelling at the pressure, eager to respond. His thoughts swirled, logic against want and need and instinct. He gave just a little more ground, let his hips roll forward against his lover. Spencer, always vocal, hummed his appreciation as his grip tightened.
God, Hotch wanted him.
“You’re sure.” It wasn’t quite a question, not really, because he had to trust Reid enough to know that he’d say if he wasn’t, that in this he would hide nothing. Still, he couldn’t help but say it.
“In a 1988 study in Oklahoma, sex actually immediately stopped the migraines of twenty percent of tested women who suffered chronic headaches. A further forty percent reported improvement and really,” He rambled at close to top speed, his breath a constant soft stream against Aaron’s skin, only broken when he paused to tip his head up and suck lightly over Aaron’s pulse. He had a definite unspoken kink for Hotch’s teeth and tongue against his throat, and he was almost equally fond of returning the favor. “-it makes biochemical sense. Orgasm releases not only endorphins but additional substances aimed at euphoria and pain relief; it’s a natural method of self-medication. So if you want to help-“
“Oh I’ll help.” After all, who was he to argue with science? “But.” He shifted, rolled over so he could cover Reid’s body completely with his. They fit together just right, his thigh sliding easily between Spencer’s legs. At the sudden shock of weight and heat and enticing pressure to thrust against, Reid’s hips bucked up against him. He was already hard, the long line of his cock unmistakable against Aaron’s thigh, and for a minute his plans faltered with the desire to simply take him like this. Years ago, after the divorce but before Canada, back at their beginning, he’d had Spencer drunk and writhing and pressed up against his living room wall. They’d only just started to have sex and he’d been Spencer’s first and all of it was heady and new and he melted oh so easily under Hotch’s hands. When he came right there, head knocked back against the wall as he rode the thigh pressed hard between his slim hips, Hotch had been filled with a rush of fierce possession. This beautiful man had somehow chosen him, let him and only him take him apart and see him like this, open and brilliant and breathtaking. There was nothing like what Spencer did to him, not in all the world. Hotch nuzzled against his ear, one hand reaching back to catch Spencer’s as he reached for the hem of Hotch’s shirt.
“Shh. Be still. Just let me take care of you.”
He gave in with only a token sigh of protest, pacified by Hotch’s kiss and the slide of his hands under Spencer’s shirt. Hotch pushed it up past his ribs and left it there for long enough to sit up and take off his own shirt first, tossing it absently back over his head. At home everyone needed to be easy to find, within close enough reach of the bed that they could pull at least boxers back on before falling asleep. Jack was learning a lot of things, but he still hadn’t learned to reliably knock when he woke up absurdly early to go watch cartoons. Here, it wouldn’t matter.
Once he pulled Spencer’s shirt all the way over his head he had bare skin stretched out before him, could touch and mark and soothe with his tongue. He slid down in the bed, kisses trailing from Spencer’s jaw down across his chest. He paused a little on his nipples but paid more attention to his ribs, just a little too pronounced under his skin. He traced them, teeth nipping light enough to be little more than a tease. Beneath him Spencer squirmed, whining, and he turned his head to gather skin between his teeth, sucking just hard enough to be sure he’d leave a mark. Spencer’s fingers buried in his hair, jerking a little as he struggled between the urge to pull Aaron’s mouth up to his and he urge to keep that mouth right where it was. The latter won out and he clutched him close, breath heavy as one hand slid down to knead encouragingly at the nape of his neck.
His handiwork was hard to see in the low light but he knew it’d be easily visible the next day, like the mark he’d once left on Spencer’s neck that had drawn Morgan’s teasing faster than flies to honey. It’s easy enough to lose himself in this, in the taste and the sounds and the exploration of the wonderfully familiar and ever changing body before him. He had learned his scars early on but in their job something new came all the time, a disconcerting scrapbook of cases and fears, times he had at least a second if not more to fear that he could be losing Spencer for good.
Tonight with all the fear that had shaken Spencer’s voice, all those old worries rest extra fresh on his mind, and before he exactly consciously decided to he reached for Spencer’s right arm to stretch it down beside him. His kisses were more gentle there, more hesitant in their searching, and when he reached to first of the track marks at the inside of his elbow he stopped altogether, lips pressed unmoving over it as he took a deep breath to steady them both. He’s thought before about marking him here and he couldn’t help but think it again, to wonder what kind of good if any it might do for him to look down and see proof of Aaron in stark relief right there. The part of him that wanted to try it was always fierce and loud, insistent that if in that moment before he slipped the needle in his vein he was reminded of just how desperately he was loved, he might change his mind. The quiet part that always won feared just how deeply it might hurt to find out that it wasn’t enough.
Hotch nuzzled against the soft skin, tried not to be distracted by the clamoring fears in his head that reminded him of the way Reid had said “Not yet”. Not yet, like a forgone conclusion, like when his fear got even worse than it was tonight he’d run even farther, all the way to the escape he’d tried to leave behind. In the midst of worrying about the present problems he hadn’t wanted to lose his focus, to let Reid shake him off the scent and onto something else, but it had hurt in a way that still burned his lungs with the desire to say, “Why can’t you just come to me?”. Logically, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Reid did come to him when he had cravings. Sometimes he told him how he was feeling and sometimes he didn’t but Hotch could always tell, could see it in the dance of his fingers and set of his shoulders, could hear it in his words. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they played cards, sometimes they made love and sometimes Hotch fucked him until he was too limp to twitch. Once, they’d taken Jack to play basketball and Reid had thrown the ball with more force than strictly necessary against the backboard and rambled to the two of them about physics and foul shots and the angle of entry until the tremors in his hand had stopped.
Spencer did come to him, when he could. There were cravings and then there were cravings and deep down Hotch knew that, but none of that knowledge made the fact that there was a level he could do nothing about feel any better.
“Aaron, you know I’d never…not with Jack in the house. I’d never bring dilaudid home.” The whisper sounded half broken but all the way certain, and Aaron almost wished he hadn’t let his worry lead him to this because he was supposed to be distracting Spencer, not making him feel worse.
He didn’t answer at first, kissed his way across the constellation of dots there close to the crease until he felt the tension in Reid’s arm start to relax. “I do know that.” He was absolutely certain of it, and he had been for a long time. The people he trusted he truly trusted, and with Spencer now a parent to Jack too, he knew that the boy meant the world to him. He’d never risk being high around Jack, never risk needles and vials when he knew Jack had a habit of going through Spencer’s bag to try to find a book they were reading together. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t come here, or go somewhere I won’t find you.” And it frightens me.
If they really started to have that conversation, to talk about dilaudid and hotel rooms and cravings, neither of them would sleep. With hard conversations, one for the night was more than enough. Hotch pulled himself away from the scars, brought his lips back to Spencer’s and their bodies back in alignment, and he kissed him with abject hunger until Reid responded with the same, cock fully hard again, nails digging into Hotch’s back to hold on as they moved together. It was transporting, immersive and perfect, and the more Reid moaned his name between kisses the more he thought about the feel of Reid’s cock on his tongue, the taste and the wet slide of it across his lips and the fact that just then, he could make Reid scream with no one to hear it.
Hotch pulled his boxers down and off before Reid’s, lust pooling hot in his belly when he touched fabric damp from Reid’s leaking cock. He was close enough that it wouldn’t be long if Hotch didn’t stretch it out, and that was exactly how he wanted it. Semantics aside he knew Reid was exhausted, knew his desire here was driven more by emotion and days apart than by an honest lack of weariness. With Spencer warm and orgasm limp in his arms, he’d be out like a light.
He didn’t make it halfway down Spencer’s chest before he stopped him, fingers twisting into a grip of the short hair at the base of his skull.
“Aaron,” He panted, lips damp and swollen from his kisses. The slight tug back up was unmistakable. “Please.”
It twisted at him, desire at the strung out way Reid whispered and a little bit of guilt at the way he begged before he even asked. He took only a moment to pull away and fish in the nightstand before he gathered Reid as close as he could, bodies impossible tangled. He flipped the cap open, tipped the bottle to coat his left hand before wrapping it around Spencer’s cock. Spencer’s face was already buried in his neck, and at the touch his whole body shivered.
“Is this what you wanted?” Hotch whispered right up against his ear, his voice pitched low with arousal.
“Fuck, your hands…” The lack of eloquence is a turn on of its own, a sign he’s too far gone to ramble about instinct and biology and exactly what it was about Aaron’s hand on his dick that got him so riled up(He has, however, talked about it afterward, postulating everything from gun callouses to the left handed grip giving his body one more reminder that it’s the hand of his partner he’s feeling. Hotch thinks it’s simpler than that. They both love a multitude of things when they’re together and like this they can kiss and touch and hold onto each other with a unique kind of ease and sometimes, that’s exactly what they need.).
He kept his face hidden against Hotch’s neck, kept breathing him in and whimpering against his throat, and when he came the grip he’d shifted to Hotch’s hip turned hard enough o bruise as he cried out. There was a certain shakiness to his hands after, not quite yet limp but not quite steady, at least not until his fingers wrapped around Hotch’s length that had been pressed against the jut of his hip. Hotch started to say “It’s alright.” because really, this was about Reid and he didnt have to have anything, but before he even finished the words Reid whispered, “Not a chance.”.
Reid kissed him, wet and lingering, stretching it out until he drew back enough to say “Come for me.” because Reid knew what it did to him, because it was a question and not a command, because somehow the act of Reid asking lit fire in his veins. When he came everything narrowed down to beautifully long fingers around him and that voice and Spencer’s name on his lips.
After he wiped them both down a little with boxers(his, he thought, but he wasn’t really paying attention), Spencer shuffled around in the sheets again, twisting his knee painfully once before he seemed to find just the right way to half drape over Hotch’s chest. His fingers played against Reid’s spine, counting vertebrae.
“How’s the headache?”
“Unfortunately I’m not among the 20%. You can’t cure me with sex.”
His soft laughter shook Reid a bit on his chest, and he could feel the smile as Reid turned his head enough to kiss him somewhere in the middle.
“I might be in the 40%, though. It’s not quite as bad.”
“I’m glad. You might have a use for me yet.” He meant it lighthearted, teasing, but al oat as soon as he said it it seemed to ring too close to everything serious, to the way he’d felt as Reid tried to tell him he wanted to face his greatest fear alone.
Reid must have caught it, the atmosphere or something in his sudden not quite shortness of breath. The fingers that had been trailing through the hair on his chest stopped, curling in on themselves. “Hotch, I didn’t want…it’s just, I know what it could mean for you and Jack and I-“
“I understand.” And he did, mostly, even if it hurt. Against Spencer’s back his fingers pressed a little more firmly, a solid presence. “But I’m in this. I need you to know I mean that.” Even if it took a while, though he couldn’t help but hope he’d earned quite a bit of Spencer’s trust already.
“I love you.” Usually, it made his heart jump. Just then, it seemed to make it beat more evenly, a return to equilibrium.
“I love you too.” Words he’d been dying to speak since to doctor came up rose in his throat, and though he didn’t want to push it seemed his best chance. “I’d like you to see another doctor. I think we need a second opinion and-” Spencer nodded, and maybe he should quit while he was ahead but…”-I wish you’d let me come with you.”
Spencer didn’t make him wait as long as he feared he might. His hand uncurled, fingers resting comfortable just over his ribs where they could feel the rise and fall. “Maybe.”
Maybe. For now, that was good enough.