The short straw
You have to share a bed with your sexy, older boss. You're in for quite the night.
Warnings: smut
Word count:3.8k
Of all the situations to be in, this was a doozy. The team was on a case, and the only hotel was pretty full, which means room sharing. Fine—except somehow you'd ended up with Hotch. The rest of the team had made a joke about you being the newest member, which automatically gave you the short straw.
Fine, you'd handle it. But the thought of being in such close proximity to Hotch was making you nervous. He was intimidating at the best of times. (Your huge crush on him didn't help at all). Yes, you were a walking cliché; you had the hots for your much older, stern, sexy boss. And now you are being forced together by sharing a room—God, it's like the plot of a rom-com.
You trail up the stairs behind Hotch, and he opens the door and gestures for you to go in—of course he does, ever the gentleman. The room is quite pleasant. It's tastefully decorated, there is a nice view from the window, and ... "shit" you say aloud. There's only one bed. Are you fucking kidding me? Let's just tick another rom-com trope off, shall we? By adding some forced proximity. Jesus.
Hotch comes up behind you. "Wha-? Oh."
"Yeah, oh," you say. "One bed, and not a sofa in sight."
"Hmm," he grumbles.
You decide to take charge of the situation. "You know what, this is fine. We are adults. We can cope with this, yeah?"
He clears his throat. "Yes."
"Ok. As long as you don't boss me around in the bedroom. "Oh God. You clamp your mouth shut and feel a blush spread across your face. "That came out wrong. I, erm... I just meant—" you croak, unable to quite finish your sentence.
Hotch tries to hide a smirk. Now there's an idea. Damn, of all the people to be sharing a bed with, it was you. With your curvy little figure and smart mouth, and right now a delightful rosy blush to your face all the way to the tips of your ears.
To spare your blushes, Hotch changes the subject and says, "Would you like to use the bathroom first?"
"Yes, please, thank you," you stutter out, anything to get out of his field of vision right now.
You dash into the bathroom and shut the door. You stare at your reflection in the mirror; great, your face is beet red. Really?! You think to yourself. Of all the fucking dumb things to come out of your mouth.
You take a deep breath and pull yourself together. Ok, shower, that's what you need. You set the shower away and strip. You step in, and ahh, yes, this is just what you needed. You take a sniff of the complimentary toiletries; mmm, nice. You lather up and enjoy the water washing the day away. You shower pretty quickly, as you don't want to hog the bathroom.
You step out and grab a towel. Ooo, nice and fluffy, and wait... pretty small. You grab the one that was beneath it and hold it out. Yup, same size. You wrap it around yourself; it thankfully covers your ass but barely reaches mid-thigh. The reason this is a problem is that in your embarrassed scramble to the bathroom, you didn't pick up your bag with your PJs.
You tentatively open the bathroom door; you'd just kind of dumped your bag when you exclaimed at the bed situation. It's not there now, damn! Ok, this is fine. Shoulders back, stand tall, shit! Not too tall, the towel rides up to an unseemly level; you tug it down again.
You walk into the bedroom. "Hey Hotch, did you move my bag?" He has his back to you and turns when you speak. His usual professional demeanor slips as his eyes briefly widen and then skim over your body.
You've taken him by surprise. He knows he shouldn't be looking at you like this, but God. Your hair is messily tied up with tendrils escaping and curling around your neck. Beads of water are resting on your skin, making you look dewy, and dear lord, that towel is short. There is so much toned leg on display. He definitely feels a stirring in his trousers, which is very unwelcome right now.
He snaps his head away from you and grabs your bag. "Here, sorry," he thrusts it out to you. Is Aaron Hotchner flustered? His eyes had lingered on you, drinking you in quickly before he turned away.
"Thanks." You head back to the bathroom. On your way past the mirror, you catch a glimpse of him, and he's staring as you walk away.
You close the door and lean up against it. Well, that was... something. You dig into your bag for your PJs. You'd packed teeny shorts and a tank top, knowing how warm you get. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, for fuck's sake. You pull them on, and you'll be damned if you're sleeping in a bra, so you'll both just have to deal with it.
You walk out of the bathroom; the air-con has made the room deliciously cool but has the obvious unfortunate side effect of making your nipples stand to attention.
Hotch is sitting in a chair reading a file. He's removed his jacket and tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt.
"All yours."
He looks up at you—your pajamas cover about as much as the towel did. What torture is this? You're obviously braless, and your nipples are hard, he tries his best not to stare.
He clears his throat. "Thanks." He moves swiftly from the chair and says he has to make a quick call before he uses the shower. As he closes the door behind him, he looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. This is going to be a long night.
Hotch's eyes had briefly lingered on you, and he seemed a bit flustered as he jumped up from the chair. Hmmm, don't read anything into it; he just hasn't seen you dressed in so little.
You climb into the bed and feel jittery. Hotch is about to be naked on the other side of that wall, and then he's going to come back and climb into bed beside you. God, how are you supposed to relax and sleep? What if you end up throwing an arm or a leg over him in your sleep? You need to do something to calm down; you could... No, you think to yourself, you can't do that. You squeeze your legs together to try and alleviate the ache that appeared at the thought of touching yourself with Hotch in the next room.
You hear his deep voice rumble through the wall. He's on his call; you don't know for how long.
You can't help but think about him unbuttoning his shirt, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping his pants—god, this is far more sensual in your brain than it should be. Your hand has absent-mindedly drifted to your nipple, and you're skimming your fingers over it.
Ok, here's the plan: really quickly get yourself off and then you'll be totally fine to spend the night beside Hotch, right?
Your body seems to have reached this conclusion before you, as when your hand finds its way between your legs, you're already wet. Damn, just thinking about him naked turned you on that much.
You don't have time to tease yourself, so you start rubbing your clit (no holding back). You keep brushing your other hand over your nipple, giving it the occasional pinch. In no time at all you're breathing deeper, trying to stay quiet.
You slip two fingers inside yourself, and your hips are writhing as you pump them into yourself. You think about how much better it would feel if they were Hotch's fingers. Your hand scrabbles for the headboard, and you hear a thunk. Shit, you've knocked something off the bedside table. You can't worry about that now. You bite down on your lip, but little breathy moans escape. You're so close; you're arching your back and trying desperately not to cry out.
What you haven't noticed because you are too focused on your pleasure is that the shower has stopped. Aaron was drying off when he heard a noise from the other side of the wall. A thump as something hit the floor. He stood still and listened, and he heard you make a noise; it sounded like a whimper (the walls weren't very thick). Wait... that definitely sounded like a moan.
He doesn't know what to do. He creeps to the bathroom door and eases it open as quietly as he can. The mirror on the wall reflects you on the bed. Oh god. It was a moan. He can see you gripping the headboard, your head thrown back and your body moving under the covers. He knows he shouldn't watch, but he reasons it would be worse if he had walked in on you.
He'd love to walk over to the bed right now and help you finish. His dick has stiffened, and he can't stop watching you. He watches your body twitch, and as you come, you let out a moan that you clearly can't hold back. Fuck, that image is going to be impossible to get out of his head. And now he's going to have to climb into that bed beside you knowing what you've just done.
He quietly closes the door and tries to pull himself together. He takes some deep breaths and puts his pajamas on. His erection has subsided (for now).
Hotch walks out of the bathroom, and you're convinced you've suitably pulled yourself together. You lie there and try to act cool. "Good shower?" Why are you asking that? Don't ask your boss how his shower was; this sharing a room and a bed situation has you all in a muddle.
"Yes, thank you. Look, are you sure you don't want me to sleep in the chair?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Hotch; just get in the bed."
He gets under the covers and tries to leave as big a gap as possible between your bodies. "Ok, well... goodnight," he says.
"Goodnight," both of you are stilted and awkward. You switch off the light and turn away from him. You do feel pretty sleepy, so hopefully you'll fall asleep fast.
Hotch, however, is wound too tightly (not having enjoyed the release you had). He lies on his back staring into the darkness. He hears your breathing change and knows you're asleep. He looks across at you; a sliver of pale moonlight illuminates the room. He stares at the curve of your shoulder and the back of your neck. There's something so vulnerable and intimate about it.
He huffs out a breath and tears his eyes away from you. He eventually succumbs to sleep.
Hotch slowly starts to wake up. The first thing he's conscious of is how warm he is and then that his arm is curled around ... oh. He opens his eyes. You've shuffled your way over to him in your sleep, and your back is pressed along the front of his body. He must have instinctively wrapped his arm around you.
He's worried if he moves you'll wake up, but if he doesn't... what then? You stretch in your sleep, which has the unfortunate effect of bringing your ass into direct contact with his crotch. Worse still, you wriggle and sigh. Oh damn, he can feel himself growing hard against you. Before he has a chance to work out what to do, you're surfacing from sleep.
As you wake, you feel an arm wrapped around you. Hmmm, that's nice. Wait... why is there an arm wrapped around you? Realization hits. Oh god, you move about so much in your sleep you should've known this would happen. That's Hotch's arm, which means that warm body pressed against your back is your boss. Shit!
Maybe he's not awake yet. You slowly wiggle, no sudden movements, to see if you can extricate yourself. Hold on a second, is he hard? You can't help yourself; you gently grind your ass against him (just to be sure). You bite your bottom lip. Oh god, yep, he is hard.
He makes a snap decision, and in a sleepy voice he says to you, "That was definitely intentional."
You gasp, "Oh my god, Hotch, I'm so sorry." You start to move away, but he pulls you back.
"I'm not."
Your brain short-circuits. "Wha-?"
He whispers into your ear, "Tell me to let go, and I will, and we forget this ever happened."
Your voice comes out breathy. "Please don't let go."
He kisses below your ear and then the back of your neck, sending tingles through your body.
"Is this ok?"
"Mmm yes."
The arm that's around you finds a bare strip of skin at your waist, and he traces his fingers along it. He traces them higher achingly slowly. You grind yourself back against him, and he lets out a gasp. In response to your movement, his hand grabs your breast and kneads it, his fingertips playing with your nipple. You let out a soft moan.
You turn over in his arms to face him and bring your lips to his. Now neither of you is tentative. You kiss hungrily like you've both been wanting this for so long. He breaks away to say, "I know what you did last night while I showered."
The look of shock on your face makes him chuckle. "Bad girl, I desperately wanted to offer my assistance."
"Fuck, Hotch." You felt like you'd turned to jelly at his words. "How did you-?"
"I heard the thump when you knocked something to the floor and then a noise that couldn't possibly be what I thought. I opened the door and could see your reflection on the mirror."
"Oh."
"I knew I shouldn't watch, but I couldn't stop. I'm sorry."
You smile. "The only reason it happened is because I was thinking of you naked on the other side of the wall."
Now it was his turn to look shocked.
"Can't you tell what you do to me?" Feeling bold, you take his hand and guide it down your body and into your shorts. He touches you and groans when he feels how wet you are.
"Turn your back to me the way we woke up." You turn, and he grabs you to him and hooks your leg back over his to get better access to you.
His hand dives back into your shorts, his fingers find your clit, and he strokes gently. You whimper. His fingers stroke and circle and add pressure. A moan escapes you, and he whispers in your ear, "Shh. As much as I'd love to hear you, the rest of the team are in rooms beside us, so you'll have to stay quiet."
You bite your lip and nod.
"That's a good girl."
Fuck—you're surprised you didn't just come on the spot. You badly want to feel his fingers inside you, but he's teasing. He keeps stroking so close—his fingertips are right there, then he pulls back to your clit. You grind back onto him in frustration. A not-so-subtle hint you want more.
He lets out a huff, so you do it again. His hips jerk, and he pushes against you, rubbing his erection against your ass.
Suddenly he slips two fingers inside you knuckle-deep. "Oh fuck," you cry out. You grab a pillow and clutch it to your face. You feel a laugh rumble through Hotch.
He fucks you with his fingers, and you use the pillow to drown out all the noises that you absolutely can't hold back.
Through the pillow clamped to your face, he hears you shout, "Oh god, Hotch." Your body stiffens and twitches against him, and you yell into the pillow as you come. The leg he has hooked around his shakes, and he feels you pulse around his fingers.
He keeps his hand cupped around the heat between your legs, and he kisses the back of your neck.
You let the pillow go and lie there panting. "And they said I got the short straw."
Hotch is kissing your shoulder, and he stops. "What's that?"
"The team thinks I got a raw deal sharing with you, but god, am I glad we shared a bed. Is now a good time to mention the huge inappropriate crush I have on you?" You smile at him; he reciprocates and says:
"Oh, I've had a fair amount of my own inappropriate thoughts when it comes to you." His hand wanders under your top to squeeze your breast. "What I'm thinking right now is how much I really want you naked."
"Well, Special Agent Hotchner, I think that can be arranged." You give him a sly little smile and move your hands to the hem of your tank top.
"Ah ah, he stops your hands. Let me."
With an eager movement, he's on top of you. He slowly starts to inch up your top, leaning forward to press kisses to the bare skin he exposes. You hum with pleasure. He stops just below your breasts and looks at you. "Don't stop," you whisper. He pushes it above your breasts and stares at you almost reverently.
Fuck, he's been longing to finally lay eyes on you naked even if he knew he shouldn't. He takes in the perfect swell of your breasts and your rosy pink nipples. He's painfully hard now. He traces his hands up your ribs, and you arch your back, pushing yourself towards him.
He is driving you crazy. You're desperate to feel his hands; you needily arch yourself towards him again, and finally he cups both hands over you. You sigh in satisfaction as he kneads your breasts and runs his hands teasingly across your nipples.
He dips his head to you and flicks his tongue over your nipple. You gasp at the contact of his tongue.
He sucks it into his mouth and alternates between sucking, gently grazing you with his teeth and swirling his tongue. You run your hand through his hair and tug; he lets out a small groan. You pull his head away and say, "On your back, Hotchner." He gladly complies.
Without further ado, you wriggle out of your shorts and pull his bottoms down and off. Jesus, he has a big beautiful dick. You reach out and grab him; you run your thumb over his head where there is a bead of pre-cum glistening. He hisses air through his teeth. You straddle him and guide him to you.
You've taken charge, and it's sexy as hell. You're on top of him, guiding him, and you look him straight in the eye as you sink down onto his length for the first time. You both groan.
You stay still for a moment, relishing the feeling of Hotch seated inside you, and then you start to move. You rock your hips first, enjoying the feeling of fullness, then you raise yourself up so just the tip of him is inside you and slam back down. Fuck, that feels good.
He grabs your hips and watches you ride him. Your beautiful breasts bouncing, your skin flushing a delicate pink. Then you lean back and start rocking your hips, head thrown back. You moan loudly. He grabs you and flips you so he's on top. He puts his hand over your mouth. "Pretty girl, what did I say about noise?"
First of all, fucking hot, and second, oh shit! You forgot. Before you can answer, he starts thrusting into you, and everything goes out of your head. His jaw is so tight, you think he's desperately trying not to make a noise; how you'd love to hear him moan and call your name.
He pushes one of your legs up, and my god, he's so deep you can't get enough. You whimper as he fucks you hard. You can't help yourself. "Oh god, Hotch, just like that," you pant. He crushes his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss.
He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, "I'm not going to last much longer."
"I'm so close, so close," you manage to utter. His thumb finds your clit, and he rubs. The pressure, the sinful sounds as he fucks you, and the way his thrusts never falter hurtle you to orgasm. Your whole body thrums with pleasure. You arch your back, and Hotch clamps his hand over your mouth again. Probably for the best as you cry out as you come.
You orgasm and clench around him, and he pulls out of you and fists his dick as he comes on your stomach. Sheer force of will stops him from groaning and shouting your name.
You're twitching and panting as Hotch pulls out of you, and you feel hot, thick ropes of cum land on your stomach. He flops beside you on the bed, breathing heavily. He takes a moment, then kisses you and tells you to stay there while he gets a cloth to clean you up.
After you're cleaned up and both back in your PJs, you curl up in his arms.
"So sharing a bed was fun," you say to him.
You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "It certainly was; we should do it again sometime."
"Oh, absolutely, it would be rude not to."
He tilts your chin up to his face, kisses you, and says, "Next time I want to hear you properly."
A delicious shiver runs through you. "Mmm, and I want to hear you moan my name."
"Oh, you can count on that."
You fall asleep in his arms.
Later that morning when you enter the lobby, the team is already there waiting and chatting. Rossi sees you both and turns away from the conversation.
"Morning," you smile at him.
"Good morning. Sleep well?" He eyes you both.
You shuffle your feet as you answer, "Um, yes, thanks." He has a dangerously knowing look in his eyes.
"And you, Dave?" Hotch steps in, aware that your behavior is a little suspicious.
"Broken sleep."
Oh, no. He can't know, can he? Innocently ask a follow-up question; be cool.
"Ah, that sucks. Was it the heat?"
He gives you both a knowing look. "Headboard."
Shit! All the pillow biting and mouth covering was for nothing; Hotch had fucked you so hard the headboard had given you away. Fuck.
He smirks at you. "So it wasn't the short straw after all." He turns away, leaving you and Hotch to squirm.
Rossi claps his hands. "Ok, everyone, off we go."