Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you find accidental comfort in your coworker. With your phone ringing nonstop, you're willing to do whatever it takes to start fresh.
A/N: Haha... hi guys... been a while 😚 Please enjoy the fic I dreamed up over a month ago now, and was finally able to conjure up!
Masterlist
If you were to be asked how you assumed a five-year-long relationship would end, you'd likely say something like irreparable differences. Maybe a difference in lifestyle, growing out of love, or even different plans for the future. Unfortunately, the irreparable difference your boyfriend had chosen at 10 pm on a Thursday evening was being balls deep in an irreparably different woman.
You supposed you should've seen the signs the relationship was drawing to a close and likely you did, but with your job itself being a life or death situation almost daily, you really didn't have much time to worry about the fact that your boyfriend was sowing his oats in other fields. Based on the look of the woman spread across your bed, the oats weren't that great for her either.
Your reaction had been somewhat delayed, but curiously not as much as hers. She'd been wonderfully blasé about the man writhing on top of her before you started screaming and throwing things, and even now you were armed with a vase of flowers (dead - you'd bought them yourself before the case you'd been on for the last two weeks) she still looked slightly bored. But at least her legs were together now, and not gynaecologist level apart.
Your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - managed to regain an ounce of dignity with a scrap of clothing, and did his best to shepard you out of the crime scene as you regained the ability to hold coherent thoughts that weren't about strangling him with his own tie.
“Listen to me, please just for five minutes-”
“Listen? I was just listening! To you moaning into that woman's shoulders with your eyes rolled back in your head!”
It was as if in the last few minutes all the love you'd had for this man, all five years of relationship and comfort, and nights spent together had melted away in an instant. The rage dissipated, and you were surprisingly calm again, though that worried you, too. Surely you should be crying, or at the very least upset. You should be feeling some kind of emotion that wasn't a vague disgust at the man in front of you in full pooh bear mode, trying to tug down the hem of his shirt to cover the crown jewels.
“It didn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything. She's just - You're gone so long on cases, and I just-”
“So you're saying it's my fault you're cheating on me?”
“Yes! No, wait, no, no, no, no-”
“No, heard loud and clear, I'll try not to save lives in the future, I'm sure the BAU will understand I should be on my back 24 hours a day instead, taking all four inches you have to donate to my worthy cause.”
“Y/N, don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. Whatever he had to be exasperated about, you had no idea. Maybe blue balls.
“Like what?”
“Like a bitch!”
The room went still with silence as you let him sit with the words he'd just spoken, willing him to snap back quickly so you could keep even just a shred of respect for him.
No such apology came.
“I'm leaving now. I expect your things packed and out of here by 12 pm tomorrow, including your thing in the bedroom. Don't bother cleaning the sheets. Just burn them. Lock the door and post the keys through the letterbox when you're done.”
“Y/N, I told you it's not like that, I still love you, come on-”
“Well I don't love you. And please go put some fucking pants on.”
You stepped back over the threshold of your apartment - the lovely, nice apartment you'd been living in for the last eight years, your nice safe space - and you shuddered.
The question wasn't exactly what next, but more like where next. What next was sending a group text in your ex-boyfriends family chat telling them what you'd walked in on, and then leaving the chat before you could get any response. The where would be a harder sell.
From this part of the city, it'd take 2 hours to get to Penelope’s apartment, especially at this time of night without a car. Emily's apartment was similarly far. Going through a list of your coworkers again, you mentally crossed off Tara, who'd been injured on your last case and was resting at her girlfriend's apartment, Luke, who despite the promised comfort of a cute dog, you were absolutely sure didn't have a spare bed, and all members of the team with spouses and/or children. Which left just Spencer and Rossi.
Needless to say, you found your way to Spencer's apartment in only 20 minutes, though you were sure you had disassociated the entire thing.
Knocking on the door, you felt a little bit awkward, but not awkward enough to leave and find a hotel at nearly 11 pm. Your last case hadn't been a pleasant one, hotel-wise, and you weren't exactly eager for another check-in.
Spencer opened the door quickly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he found you there but only for a brief flash before his face brightened up.
“Y/N? Do we have a case again? I thought Hotch said-”
“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted, needing to get the words out as quickly as possible before you convinced yourself to walk away.
Spencer took a moment to take in your words, and you took the opportunity to look at him then. He was fully clothed at least, and you were glad to find that his pajamas looked comfortable and clean. A simple plaid cotton pant with a soft-looking white long sleeved shirt pushed up his arms slightly. He'd taken out his contacts and put on his glasses, and you wondered if you'd caught him mid-book.
“Please?” you added in a hopeful voice as he still looked at you slightly confused.
“Oh, of course,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing inside. “Is there something wrong with your apartment?” he asked, taking your go-bag from you without question and guiding you into the main living space of his apartment.
“Thank you, yeah. Something like that. Shoes off or on?”
“I have some slippers. You can take them off. What happened?” he said, placing the slippers in front of you and turning back to bolt the door.
“Invasive species?” You said, trying to sound as nonplussed as possible despite now feeling incredibly plussed.
“Oh, bugs? Yeah, I've had a cockroach or two in the apartment before. Did you know that the average female cockroach can produce up to 10,000 offspring in a single year?”
You sat on his couch quietly, trying not to imagine 10,000 cockroaches and failing nearly spectacularly. Unfortunately, the only image that could surpass tiny cockroach babies was of your boyfriend pounding away at another woman. Which was just a brilliant move for your psyche.
“Spencer, I know I've really intruded here tonight, but do…. Do you wanna drink with me?” You asked, hoping to drown at least a memory or two of the last 24 hours. Hopefully, the cheating one, but you'd take cockroach extermination as well.
A slightly worried look settled on Spencer's face, but he said nothing and nodded, walking to his kitchen, grabbing two beers and meeting you back on his loveseat.
“Oh you really have beer here!” You exclaimed, thanking him for the beverage before cracking it open and taking a sip.
“Morgan came over with some to celebrate 6 months out of prison. These are leftovers.”
“Right… right…”
The first few sips were so painfully awkward that you thought about returning back to your apartment and just sleeping on your own couch.
Vaguely, you felt Spencer watching you, taking a sip of his drink for every sip you took of yours.
“So…” you said, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow again, already questioning whatever was about to come out of your mouth.
“So?” he asked. You weren't sure if it was the beer, the look on his face, or the crazy implosion of the last 5 years that had you giggling all of a sudden. You were just glad that when you cracked up, he cracked a smile as well, and a little bit of the tension went away.
“Why are you really here, YN?”
You took a deep breath and looked straight forward at the bookshelves Spencer had lovingly filled. Maybe this had taken him half a decade as well, so he'd understand how your life felt a little bit like a wobbly bookshelf at that second.
“The invasive species I mentioned? It was the woman screwing my boyfriend in my bed. Ex. Ex-boyfriend.”
You heard the intake of breath from Spencer before he put his can down and started thinking of something to say in reply to that.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh… Y/N, I-”
A shrill ringing cut him off, and you were almost glad to not be on the receiving end of whatever pitiful words he was about to push on you, until you checked the caller ID and saw your ex's name.
“Don't pick that up,” Spencer said as you hesitated towards the phone. With a hand over yours, he flipped the phone over, locking eyes with you as he let it ring out.
“He's just going to try it again.”
“Let him.”
You nodded, breaking eye contact and sinking back into Spencer's slightly wilted couch cushions.
“In your bed? Really?” he asked, talking another sup as you took a gulp, letting the beer fizz down your throat before you could answer.
“I told him to expect me tomorrow because of how the case was looking. I guess he wasn't expecting me.”
“I think that was a given. Unless he was into that. Exhibitionism is one of the most common kinks among adult males, and-”
“Oh he was not into exposing himself,” you laughed into your drink, propping your head up on your hand and turning to face Spencer more. He shot another questioning glance but didn't push the issue, so you silently explained as well. By pinching your fingers together to the approximate size of your ex-boyfriend's dick.
“Oh. Well, it's not the size that counts?” He whispered almost ironically as he took another sip, now much closer than before. You'd done your best to distance yourself from your boyfriend even as he'd followed you through your apartment half naked, but you didn't seem to find Spencer's proximity threatening at all.
Maybe because he wasn't having sex with a random woman in your bed 5 seconds before.
“You wanna know the worst part?” You said, leaning closer as if to tell him an even bigger secret. “He didn't even know how to use it. I haven't-”
Another phone call blasted through, and you grabbed your phone and put it behind you.
“He's really great at interrupting conversation when it’s just getting good,” Spencer laughed, but you were slightly disappointed that he'd leaned back away now.
“What was it you were saying?” He asked, taking a swig of beer again, can nearing its close.
“I haven't had an orgasm in almost three years,” you said bluntly, watching the most genuine spit take you’d seen in your life. You pat Spencer's back as he coughed up inhaled beer, bringing your feet up under you into a cosier position.
“Okay now?” you asked as his breathing returned to normal.
“No? Three years, Y/N? Really?”
You shrugged and looked away almost embarrassed to be meeting his eyes now that your sexual history was the topic of the night.
“We had sex. He's just… he's just a really lazy lover. It'd be the same stuff every time. Handjob to some clumsy fingers missing my clit, a few pumps and cum on my face. I wasn't exactly initiating seven days a week in the hopes that this time he'd be able to locate it.”
Spencer was somewhere between horror and trying not to laugh, eyes wide with either alarm or the strain of having to keep it in.
“It's okay, you can laugh,” you said, but he shook his head politely.
“Y/N, I was in prison and still had more orgasms than you this year.”
“Hey, I hear prison is a great place to meet new people. Have new experiences.”
Spencer shot you a quickly horrified look as his cheeks flushed with heat. “Y/N, I was not someone's bitch in prison.”
“Why not? You're pretty enough for it?”
You'd meant the line to come across as teasing, just as you'd expected the finger now twisted in a lock of his hair, playing with him, to come off as teasing as well.
But you felt a definite throb between your legs when he looked at you again, doubly so when his eyes darted down to your lips.
You cleared your throat and tried for a teasing tone once again.
“So you made someone else your bitch?” you smiled, trying to drag his eyes away from your lips before you did something you'd regret.
“No. I… I spent a long time in solitary, and there's… there's really not that much to do.”
“So you did yourself?”
The tips of his ears were scarlet when you finally decided to back off, tucking the curl of hair behind his ear and letting him cool off.
“Why didn't you masturbate then?” he asked, pouting slightly still from your interrogation.
“Excuse me?”
“Your boyfriend couldn't make you cum, but a vibrator probably could. But you still haven't had an orgasm in three years. Why is that?”
It was your turn to feel the heat, the warmth from the beer finally reaching your head.
“He didn't want me to.”
You didn't mean for the words to sound as sad as they did. The fact itself was just incredibly sad. Your boyfriend saw anything vaguely phallic shaped as competition and had encouraged “organic” coupling instead.
You waited for Spencer to say something else, anything else as you held his gaze, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and him to start talking down to you as if you were simply a victim of the worst sex in the world.
Instead, he said “so did that other woman look as miserable as you've been for the last three years?” and the spell was broken.
You laughed so hard, you nearly choked on the beer you'd already finished. This time, it was Spencer's turn to land a hand on your back as you winded yourself with laughter.
“She looked bored! She looked genuinely bored. I almost thought it was just a lifelike doll, she was that unphased,” you kept giggling between gasps, forcing the words out as you threw your head onto Spencer's shoulder, hand landing on his thigh as you finally calmed down.
“I'd be horrified if anyone looked bored while in bed with me,” came Spencer's voice, and a little shiver ran down your spine as the rasp of his whisper rang in your ear.
You looked up from his shoulder and caught his eye immediately. If you wanted to, you could lean up by a centimetre and catch his lips with yours. And you suddenly, very much wanted to do that.
A final shriek of your phone behind you deterred you for a few seconds, and you were about to work yourself up to scooting a little bit away from Spencer when he leaned over you, grabbed the phone, and hung up on your boyfriend.
“Do you want to cum, Y/N?” he asked, as quietly as before as his hands traced over you on their return journey to him. He looked down your body, eyes greedily drinking in your breasts, hips, thighs and legs tucked into his side on his couch.
You didn't know what you were going to respond when your head practically nodded by itself. Enthusiastically.
He doesn't immediately pull you in for a kiss, and you're worried for a beat that he meant that only as a hypothetical and not an invite. A final cry from your phone has you standing in seconds, completely detached from Spencer, and the nearly embarrassing moment you pouncing him would've been.
“I should probably take it this time,” you explained, turning slightly.
But Spencer was faster than you, if not more prepared for what was to come. Wrapping an arm around your waist, Spencer tugged you back, pulling you onto his lap. When you were firmly situated - ass over his now evidently firm cock - he grabbed the phone out of your other hand, hung up and put it in his pocket.
“Spencer, I-I don't think that's a good idea,” you gasped as his hands slowly progressed up to your chest, and his lips dropped to your neck, biting and sucking along whatever flesh was easy for him to access.
“You need to cum. You deserve to cum, Y/N. I'm just here to help. Use me.”
You stifle a sharp, quick moan, biting your lips and thanking God that he couldn't see the face you made when his hips ground his cock up into your ass.
“I'm probably not ready for this,” you stuttered slightly, breath departing your body quicker than it could arrive.
“Probably not.”
“We work together, too. It would be awkward.”
“It might,” he nodded. “But you still want to.”
You couldn't help the moan, finally letting it free as you tossed your head back and clawed at his forearm, wrapped around you.
Your ass had a mind of its own, grinding back into him in circles as his hands found their way under your shirt, inquisitive fingers stroking your nipples through your bra.
“S-Spencer,” you whimpered again, legs spreading apart as you felt that familiar warmth settle between them. He didn't miss the longing in your tone, the shift in your core, pushing one hand down your stomach and trailing it onto your thigh.
It was as close as he could get with your pants still on, tight against your skin. He squeezed your thigh, still licking and sucking at your neck before his hand rose to the clasp of your pants.
It took him a long lime to fumble with them, and you thought of helping multiple times but you let yourself get distracted by the tense definition of his muscles, the rigid line of his body as he strained to please you.
Your mind fogged with lust, and you felt the vibrations from his pocket right under you when your phone rang again. You practically jerked up in shock as pleasure hit you in a wave, Spencer's fingers finally dipping into your panties just as the vibrations hit you. They weren't centred, of course, not anywhere close to where you needed them to be for you to enjoy them the way you would a toy, but that's what Spencer was for.
He let the call ring out, tracing small, slow circles over your clit as you jumped up into his hand, moaning and whimpering the entire time.
“What an idiot. I bet he never touched you like this. Nice and slow.”
“N-no, S-s-”
“I'm so glad I'm right. He didn't deserve this beautiful cunt. You're so wet for me, right, baby?” You nodded and he hummed in response, voice low and making you pulse in his lap.
“That's it, good girl,” he whispered as you worked your cunt up and down his fingers, stilling himself so you could find your own pleasure.
“Spencer… Spencer, fuck-”
With his free hand, he turned your face to the side and finally kissed you properly as you moaned into his mouth. He was quick to deepen the kiss, to press his tongue against the seam of your mouth and enter your mouth, quickly dominating you as you let yourself get more and more excited. Your hips stuttered, out of rhythm and out of practice, and you almost whimpered in frustration that you couldn't get off quicker, that your body wasn't finding the orgasm quick enough despite how good, how perfect this felt.
Sensing your growing frustration, Spencer broke the kiss.
“Come with me,” he said, pulling his hands away from your wet cunt and out of your stupid pants and encouraging your hips up until you were stood and he was stood behind you.
Cock still firmly stood against your ass, he walked you all the way to his bedroom, hands on your hips the entire time, memorising the sway of your walk.
“Strip and get on the bed, please, Y/N,” he said, finally peeling himself away from you as you nodded quickly and listened to him immediately. You weren't sure what to expect, so you hesitated, laying down, crawling up until your head hit the pillows. You were almost disappointed when you finally looked back at Spencer and he was still fully clothed, so sure that he was going to fuck you to your climax.
Instead, he approached the bed, gently slid his arms around your thighs, opened your legs wider, knelt on the floor and brought your cunt to his face.
The first touch of his to guess to your clit had you almost beside yourself with lust. You'd been sexually active for a handful of years, and this - THIS - was the first time you'd experienced such acute pleasure.
Your hips were unable to stop, thrusting up into his face as you willed his tongue to engulf you, to be a tool in your pleasure.
Again your phone rang, but he grabbed it quickly, pausing only a second to silence it and discard it on the bed beside you, sitting it further up the bed where it would no longer be a distraction to him.
He dove right back in, and you rewarded him with wave after wave of fierce moan, your writhing body only restricted by a hand snaked up onto his stomach. You still pushed against his face, practically fucking it as he flattened out his to guess and let you chase your high.
“Spencer!” You gasped and moaned, voice dripping with lust and desperation, mouth not even properly forming words now you were so close.
You propped yourself up slightly, looking down as Spencer's eye caught your own, his chin slick with your juices, his eyes dripping with lust. You grabbed a handful of his hair and jumped that little bit faster as you felt that long forgotten whisper of pleasure, that all-encompassing explosion of satisfaction, and you came apart on Spencer's tongue.
“Thank you, thank you, Spencer, shit, thank you,” you whimpered, falling back again into the bed as you rode out the high. When you managed to open your bleary eyes again, Spencer was propped up above you, but instead of paying you attention, he'd grabbed your phone and bought it to his ear.
“You heard that? Good. I'm sure you're aware now that she won't be returning your calls tonight. Goodbye.”
His voice, his words, were like a cold bucket of water to your brain as you sat up, reaching for him and finding him as his hips circled your waist.
“Was that-?” He cut you off with a kiss a sweet, soft one.
“Yes.” He kissed you again and you melted into his touch as he pulled you into his lap again.
“H-He-”
“He knows now what a real orgasm sounds like. He knows you're not interested anymore. He knows you're mine now.”
You shivered at the words, your lust addled brain flooding your senses, and your cunt as you reacted to the possessiveness of his words, his tone. Part of you was turned on by the exhibitionism as well. You'd had to walk in on your ex boyfriend completely exposed, and there was satisfaction in kicking him to the curb with a similar fuck you. A fuck you that you'd enjoyed a lot.
You pressed your lips against Spencer's and rocked your hips against him again, tasting yourself on his tongue as he laid you down once more. His cock twitched against your leg as he propped you up on the pillows, and your hands trailed down to show it some attention as your sighed into his kiss.
He eagerly shed his clothes, first his top, sitting up and pulling it over his head, giving you a deliriously enticing shot of his chest and soft stomach before dropping down to cover your body again. You let your hand find the sprinkling of hair on his lower stomach, though, following it down as you encouraged his pants off. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand, and you gladly stroked it as he kissed the plains of your body again. He found the side of your neck that he'd neglected earlier, licking and sucking until it was almost as loved as the first side, before pulling your hand away from his cock.
You pouted and began to protest when he quickly lined his cock up with your cunt, and slid in deep and soft before you could.
“Needed to be in you,” he whispered in your ear, gripping your hips and sliding your legs up and around him as he pushed that little bit deeper. “Keep them nice and wide for me,” he said, dropping one last kiss to your lips, before his chest rose, and his hips pulled away again.
When they snapped back into you, you let out a generous scream of pleasure that almost had you wishing you'd never hung up. He set a quick pace, a furious pace as he too moaned into the contact of your cunt and his cock, two desperate people searching for release.
“So tight, Y/N, you're so tight,” he moaned, flesh hitting flesh as you dug your nails into his arms, already so wet again, you could feel the sheets under you growing damp. His hand left its perch on your hip and found its way to your clit once again, and you knew that you weren't going to be able to keep to this pace without cumming a second time.
“Keep moaning for me baby, show me how much you want it,” his voice begged, almost a rumble with how lustful he sounded. You let your voice carry, each moan a little bit more unrestricted than the last.
“Louder, Y/N, please. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this, you don't know how much I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”
His prayers were answered when he lowered his head back down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth between licks and sucks. You practically screamed his name, pressing your chest up to grant him better access.
You liquefied beneath him, pressure building and building until you felt him rock, lifting his chest as you came. He pulled his cock out, teasing it through your folds as you stuttered around him, your arousal squirting across his cock and sheets as you fell back to the bed, gasping in pleasure. Your hips stuttered against him, and he soothed you gently, still working his cock through your folds gently as your clit went from overwhelmed to calm to quickly overstimulated.
“Spencer,” you whimpered, almost unable to take all the pleasure he was offering you. “Spencer, it-it hurts.”
“Don't you want me to stop?” He asked, stopping his movements for a second as you deliberated your answer. The lack of movement was answer alone, and you shook your head no wanting to feel his cock against you, inside you, one more time.
“Louder, Y/N, tell me what you want.”
“I want to keep going,” you said, as he began slowly rocking his cock against you again, sticky from your cum.
“What do you want me to do?” He asked, teasing a nipple with his hand as your eyes fluttered shut.
“Please fill me up again, please I want to cum again.”
“One more time?” He asked.
“Mhmmm… one more… one more, please.”
You were cum drunk, so horny that you couldn't fathom stopping there. He pressed another kiss to your lips and encouraged you to flip over, propping a pillow under your stomach as he pulled your legs into the right position.
You snuggled into the pillows at your head, pushing your ass up for him slightly as he nudged his cock against your entrance once more.
“Where should I cum Y/N?” He asked, reaching under you to slowly circle your clit again.
“H-hmmm…” you said, eyes shut, focused more on the pleasure than the question. You didn't care anymore. You didn't care where he came, just as long as he let you do it, too.
“Y/N, I expect an answer. Where should I put my cum?”
“Anywhere,” you pouted, pressing your hips back into his cock in the hopes that he'd just fuck you again already.
“That's not an answer,” he said, gently slapping your ass as he pulled his cock away.
“On your back?” He asked, fingers still working your clit underneath, but trailing lower until they found your cunt, two entering you to keep you wet and stretched for him.
“You'd need to shower before you could pass out, but I'm happy to help clean you off. They have communal showers in prison, so I'm not shy.” You moaned at the suggestion but couldn't answer further.
“On your stomach? Again we'd have to shower off, but I would love to see your boobs decorated all nicely.” Your moans were whimpers now as he edged you with his fingers, his words gentle in your ear but dripping with so much lust and promise you couldn't stand it. You didn't want to make decisions anymore.
“On your face?”
“Not on my face,” you snapped quickly, and he nodded and stroked your hair, hooking a strand behind your ear as he agreed.
“Okay. Where, Y/N? Be a good girl and tell me.”
“I-Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”
“Of course. Good job.”
He pulled his hand free gently, and quickly replaced it with his thick cock, and you moaned again at the weight of it against your walls, the familiar stretch of it. In this position, he reached deeper somehow, his thrusts slower, more precise as he drew out his own orgasm as long as possible, maximising his ability to pleasure you.
“Good girl,” he muttered against your skin, dropping a kiss to your back. “Good girl.”
“Wanted to do this for so long, Y/N,” he confessed with each thrust. “Look at how pretty this pussy is, how wet it is for me. I wish your boyfriend could see it. I wish he could see how well-behaved you are for me. How nicely you take my cock.”
His deep, slow strokes, his words, the kisses he pressed against any inch of your skin he could reach combined to push you over the edge a third and final time. This one wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was a steady shudder of pleasure from your hips and a quiet, satisfied sigh.
You didn't say anything but Spencer knew, he felt it, and he came moments after, cock deep inside as he filled you with his cum.
“You're on birth control, right?”
“IUD. Pill. Yeah.” You say between breathy sighs of contentment.
Muttering something behind you, he pulled out finally, leaving for a minute to grab a washcloth and clean himself off before returning to help you as well.
“What did you mumble?” You asked, as he crawled back into your arms, looking up at him.
“What?” He asked, ears turning slightly pink as you stared at him intently.
“Just now. I told you I was on birth control, and you mumbled something.”
He looked away, refusing to meet your gaze before dropping to kiss you sweetly once again.
“Tell me,” you said, and he kissed you again.
“Spencer, tell me,” you pouted, and he kissed the pout away.
You almost asked again, but he kissed you too quickly, too deeply and you lost your breath again.
“I said,” he started, leaving you panting under him again. “It was good you're on birth control, because I like the sight of my cum dripping out of you.”
The remaining breath left your body as you gasped, your face growing hot. You burrowed your face in his chest and let him hold you as you drifted into sleep, wrapped up in each other.
what do you mean by the 'game of thrones situation' in 1+ 1 = 3 ??? i've watched got but i just don't get it lmfaoo the only thing that comes to mind is the incest
it was kind of an open-to-interpretation joke but it was like a everyone gets with everyone kinda joke, in my head it just sounded like something penelope would say since they often call themselves family
Summary: Spencer calls you to provide some of your now rather popular services.
A/N: i missed spencer and i love free use!!
The most amazing part of the lifestyle you had chosen to lead was always the vast variety of men's sexual desires.
Some enjoyed getting a little rough, some dressing you in questionable outfits, some even were as far as to use you to serve them, all previously established, all with consent.
It was the wonder of 'free use', you were, at the end of the day, nothing but a tool. That's what made it so exciting.
But with Spencer, oh, Spencer, he was surely an odd one.
"Stop moving, I can't read" he ordered, his voice firm, but he was still polite about it.
He had you bent over his lap while he sat on the couch, your body was stripped naked the second you had entered the apartment. Your back was used as a book rest as he read.
His hand was the reason you were squirming so uncomfortably. You had been overstimulated for the past five minutes or so, and he kept torturing you, over and over.
It started with a call. He had a rough case and needed to unwind, which he often did with a good book. Soon, you were on his lap, kissing his lips and feeling his clothed groin against your wetness, and that's when it turned torturous.
No, he wasn't rough. Au contraire, he was extremely gentle. Annoyingly so. He began to massage your buttocks once you were across his lap, not once touching you where you were aching to have him inside.
"Ooh, I love this line" he suddenly blurted out "Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be." tilting his head, he tried to catch a glimpse of your face, womdering if you were as impressed by it as he was.
Little time did he give you, because his thumb began to run over your slit. It was slow and careful, like a caress.
You moaned in complaint. You needed more, so much more.
"You look beautiful like that." he praised, and it only heightened your arousal.
He went back to his book and his thumb kept up its pace, and it wasn't only when he reached half the book that, without warning, slid one of his fingers inside of you, while his thumb part-timed on your clit.
"I always thought Cervantes was a bit insane himself," he began to explain his theory "Takes a madman to write a madman." and without any further word, continued the assault on your cunt.
You couldn't speak from how delightful it felt. Despite reading a complex book, he was definitely paying attention to every movement of his hand, every crease of your insides, he was trying to find the one spot.
Minutes later he was kind enough to add another finger, this knuckles curling inside of you. But he was still going slow and that's when you figured: he was using your pussy as a stress ball. Not to your enjoyment but his, nonethless this was even more arousing.
His pace began to quicken as he turned on the pages, and you could tell he was reaching the end of the book, and you were reaching your limit. But it was on your terms and conditions that you only came when he said a certain word.
"...are even now tottering..." he had begun to recite near your ear what you assumed was the end of the book, but you weren't paying attention at all. You wanted to hear it. The word you needed the most as his fingers sped up their insertion. "...doubtless, doomed to fall forever." he continued.
There was something enchanting and sweet about his voice, as if he were telling you a lullaby.
"Farewell." he finally said.
Like thunder through the sky, a long moan resonated as you came. Knowing what he had done, his free hand quickly removed the book from your back. Old edition, he was not going to risk it getting soaked in your juices the same way his hand now was.
He continued to thrust, helping you get rid of the wave. "You okay?" he asked concernedly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your naked back. "Sorry, I really wanted to finish the book." he apologized as he removed his fingers from inside of you.
You were still panting and flushed from the overstimulation, but you gave him a gentle nod "Are you feeling better?" you asked. You had noticed his tension since you arrived but decided to keep it quiet.
"I'm on cloud nine." he simply said with a handsome, gentle grin.
Summary: Duncan decides to start teaching you how to defend yourself, and tensions begin to rise as you get to know each other more.
Chapter Warnings: reluctant allies to lovers, mutual pining, slight power imbalance (mentor/mentee), age gap (reader is mid 20s), shooting lessons, smoking, brief and vague mentions of violence, sooo much tension, very light inebriation, angst ending, aaaand i think thats it but lmk if anything else!
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“Can I get you anything else, honey?” The waitress asked as she set down a plate of pancakes in front of you.
“Just a top-up of coffee, please,” you said, smiling at her appreciatively.
As she poured, you involuntarily glanced at Duncan before looking down. There must’ve been something in your expression that misled her because she grinned slyly and raised an eyebrow at you suggestively.
“You two have a long night?” She asked.
You blinked at her in surprise, immediately wishing you’d sink into the sticky vinyl booth and disappear. Your smile turned into an awkward baring of teeth, especially as the tip of Duncan’s boot nudged yours.
“Just got up early is all…” you mumbled, trying to subtly kick him back.
She chuckled, misinterpreting your reaction yet again, and turned to Duncan.
“And what about you, sugar? Need a top-up, too?”
“Sure,” he said, seemingly nonplussed by her teasing. “Keep it coming.”
She winked at him conspiratorially and let out another delighted chuckle. Now you wanted to jump across the table and throttle him, but you held onto your self-control by your fingernails.
“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it now. Just holler if you need anything else.”
With that, she left, completely ignorant of the tension that remained in her wake. You sliced at your pancake with a vengeance, unwilling to look up at him but sensing he was observing you.
“What?” You snapped after a minute, setting your cutlery down.
“Nothing,” he said, methodically spreading butter on his toast. “Just confirming you’re not very good at hiding your emotions, is all. Gonna need to work on that.”
You gaped at him. “So you were intentionally provoking me?”
He shrugged one shoulder as he took a sip of coffee holding your gaze. You narrowed your eyes at him, your pride instinctually making you want to lash out. It was true that in a lot of ways you had your heart on your sleeve, so even if you didn’t want to admit it, he had a point. It was just a little strange that patience was the first lesson he seemed to want to impart.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons he had thus far been so uncooperative – a lesson in and of itself. You drummed your fingers on the table as you thought, and in that introspection, you gave him no reaction at all.
“That’s better,” he said, bringing your attention back to him. “I’m more observant than you may think. My silence allows for it.”
“And what else have you figured out about me, hmm?” You said, a challenge edging your tone. “How tough am I going to be to break into the perfect, stoic killer?”
He huffed in amusement. “I would say that’s more dependent on you.”
You leaned forward slightly, not backing down. “What? You’re not going to try to mold me in your image?”
He looked away then. “Far from it.”
A thought struck you then and you stopped drumming your fingers. You didn’t even want to mention it, but at that point, curiosity had sunk its claws into you. Still, you leaned back and took a bite of your food, letting the silence hang for a moment longer.
“So, last night… Was that some sort of lesson, too?” You asked, trying to sound casual. “Maybe about pride or something?”
He shook his head, spearing some egg with his fork but making no effort to actually eat it.
“No, that was just us doing the best with what we had then. Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
You nodded, contemplating this. The rest of the meal went by in silence, both of you unsure of what else to say. He had put things in a strangely tender light, somehow, but neither of you could acknowledge it. You snuck furtive glances at him, thinking for the first time that perhaps you’d made the right choice staying with him. It was nice to be surprised from time to time, and things finally seemed to be moving in the right direction in terms of your training.
Once you were done, Duncan went up to the counter to pay. The waitress said something to him that you couldn’t hear, but you saw a small smile on his face. She waved at you with a smile and you tried to wave back as naturally as possible, your polite smile watery at best.
He ushered you out of the diner’s warmth and into the crisp autumn morning, your breath lightly fogging in the air. He lit a cigarette on his way to the truck, fishing his keys from his pocket.
“Where are we headed now?” You asked, hoping to get an answer of some sort.
“We’ve got a couple of hours before we have to move out, so I’m going to take you somewhere quiet for some target practice,” he said.
“Are you the target?” You asked, half-joking.
He shot you a look that was both reprimanding and amused as he opened his door. “I didn’t say who would be practicing, did I?”
You hummed as if to say touché, opening your own and sliding into the passenger seat without any more protest.
—-------------
Duncan lined up what he could find on a log a few yards away from you — pieces of a broken glass bottle, a bent tin can, a couple of acorns, and what seemed to be the remnants of a boot.
He walked back over to your side and made sure the angle and distance were just right. Given the mountainous area, you were on a very slight incline, surrounded by nothing but clusters of tall pine trees. There was almost no wind, so it was quieter than you’d expected, but not unnervingly so.
He handed you the pistol he’d demonstrated how to load earlier and you tested its heft in your hands, even going so far as to pantomime drawing it out of a holster and pointing. He stepped behind you, assessing your posture.
“Alright, little bit of a wider stance,” he said, nudging your feet further apart with his boot. You tensed as he put his hands on your arms, adjusting you slightly. “Great, shoulders squared. And keep both hands on it for now, too.”
Raising your arms once more, you aimed it at the largest object on the log first – the worn-out boot. You slowed down your breathing, steadying yourself so your arms wouldn’t tremble. You were more nervous about the loudness of the shot rather than the actual weapon, but you had to get used to it eventually. On an exhale, you gritted your teeth and squeezed the trigger.
Crows exploded into the air from the surrounding trees at the resounding shot, their alarmed calls mingling with its distant echo. The boot had been knocked backward, falling behind the log. You let out an elated little laugh at actually having made it, finding yourself looking back at him for his approval.
“Good one,” he said, smiling. “Nice and easy, right?”
“Well, this one, sure,” you said. “Can’t say if I’ll make it as a sniper later on, but it’s a start…”
He chuckled. “One step at a time. Why don’t you try it again?”
This time, when he adjusted your posture once again, you welcomed it. Still, you were very aware of it – the slight touch of his fingers on your elbow to raise your arms a little more, his other hand covering one of yours to correct your grip. Your body lost some of its initial tension, even as he hovered close, whispering pointers as you focused on your aim.
After a couple more shots, your ears were ringing, but you went towards the log to see how you’d done. Splintered bullet holes in some of the tree trunks showed where you’d missed, but at least you’d managed to get one of the acorns and the side of the tin can.
“We’ll keep working on it, but not bad at all,” he said, seemingly impressed. “How do you feel?”
“Like I could move on to moving targets next,” you said, raising both eyebrows, and the two of you laughed at the insinuation.
Returning to his side, you tried to hand the pistol back to him but he shook his head.
“Keep it, it’s yours,” he said. “You’re gonna need it going forward.”
“Thank you,” you said with a slightly surprised grin. “Not the kind of gift any regular girl would expect to receive… But I’m not complaining.”
“Well, clearly you’re not just any regular girl.”
He held your gaze for a strangely charged moment, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. You looked away first, your smile lingering just faintly. You were sure he didn’t really mean anything by it, but it still managed to have an effect on you. Whatever unnameable emotion tried to rise from it, though, you immediately tamped down.
He cleared his throat as if to dispel the new sort of tension that precariously hung between you, the moment vanishing into thin air.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much,” he said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, well, now I’m being given reasons to,” you said, making sure the safety was on before tucking the pistol in your jacket pocket for the time being. “Maybe it’s the spike in adrenaline.”
“Guess I’ll have to find more ways to keep you busy like this, then.”
You shifted your weight, needing to ask the question you’d been wondering all morning.
“What, um, made you change your mind?”
He hummed in thought, gazing out at your surroundings as if trying to save the quiet beauty of the forest in his mind. Then, he nodded in the direction of the truck and the two of you hiked back down the hill side by side.
“In terms of your training?” He asked and you nodded. “Well, I figured I had to make sure you knew how to defend yourself, at least.”
“I know how to defend myself,” you argued with a scoff, which made him raise an eyebrow.
“In some ways, sure,” he said, huffing with amusement. “If it was just an argument, you’d have that in the bag.”
You pursed your lips, conscious of your earlier conversation about being so blatant with your emotions. You realized he probably ribbed you so often for a reason, and you couldn’t just let him get the best of you so easily. He was far more patient than you were giving him credit for, too, taking your attitude and your habitual biting words with grace.
It was still too early to tell, but maybe he wouldn’t be as bad of a teacher as you — or maybe even him — might have originally thought. You kicked a small stone in your path, watching it roll down ahead of you.
“Well, what if I don’t have a gun, then? Or any other weapon?” You said.
“We’ll get to hand-to-hand combat at some point,” he said. “But for now, we’ve got some work to do.”
—————-
Only an hour after Duncan’s assignment had been carried out, both of you sat in his truck eating fast food. You’d gotten a vanilla milkshake that you occasionally dipped a fry into, which was not a treat you indulged in too often — at least not since you were a kid. The mood was celebratory, though, given how well things had gone with your “test drive”, as he had put it.
The whole affair had gone by relatively quickly – Duncan had you stand outside the room to make sure no one came around while he conducted business. You’d been so nervous that you felt as if your heart was trying to crawl up your throat, rehearsing excuses in your mind while you tried your best to blend in. To your immense luck, though, the hallway stayed empty.
The sounds of a scuffle only lasted a couple of minutes, but then there was a silence that seemed to stretch on for much longer. When Duncan finally emerged from the room, he ushered you down the back stairwell, taking off the bloodied maintenance uniform he’d stolen on the way. He was wearing his regular clothes underneath, prepared for a quick escape, and he discarded the uniform in a back alley dumpster after making sure there were no witnesses.
Adrenaline had you lightheaded and kind of giddy as you hurried back to his truck, finally being a little more involved in an assignment. Usually, he had you do stakeouts, which were by far your least favorite, but now you understood why.
He still insisted that you were not ready for the rest of the work yet, which you could agree with, but it was nice to be a part of it anyway. So much so that you were already eager for the next time, even if you weren’t sure when that would be.
“So… where are we headed now?” You asked, turning down the radio.
“Well, we’ve got nothing on the docket for now,” he said, sipping on his drink. “I was thinking we could drive back to Triple Oak in the meantime, and train you some more while we have the time.”
You nodded, trying not to seem too overeager, and leaned back against the seat. “It’ll be nice to be off the road for a bit.”
“You might want to change and get rid of that before we cross state lines, though,” he said, gesturing at your clothes.
You were still wearing the cleaning staff uniform you’d stolen from the hotel the target had been staying at, but you were wearing his jacket over it to hide most of it. The jacket smelled like him – smoke, gunpowder, and an aftershave with bitter notes. Was it strange that you felt a little comforted by it?
“I’ll do it in the back seat, but don’t you dare look,” you said, pointing at him menacingly. “I’ll gouge your eyes out if you do.”
He huffed a laugh, waving you off. You climbed into the backseat and rifled through your bag to try and change quickly. Mostly, he kept his gaze ahead on the parking lot trying and failing to concentrate on whatever song the radio was playing. Involuntarily, he glanced at the rearview mirror, catching the barest glimpse of skin before he quickly looked away.
He swallowed hard, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He had definitely felt a shift in your dynamic after that night, like you were starting to become a team, rather than keeping each other at arm's length. It was a good thing, to be sure, but he feared getting too accustomed to it.
What’s more, he worried about your safety more and more. It was the real reason why he had suddenly decided to take action, so he wasn’t exactly lying about you needing to know how to defend yourself. He tried not to think of you being out in the field all by yourself, but luckily there was still time before that happened.
How he would fare after you were gone, well, that was a problem for him to figure out later on. In the meantime, he would have to untangle the mess of what he was beginning to feel towards you… If he allowed himself to feel it in the first place.
You climbed back into the front seat, bringing him back from his thoughts. You’d left his jacket in the back, unsure if you should put it back on and deciding not to. Before you had a reason to, but now it would seem too… intimate, in a way.
“Long drive ahead of us,” he said, starting the truck. “You ready?”
You nodded and soon enough you were back on the road. You stayed up to keep him company for as long as you could, but as soon as the sky began to lighten, you were unable to keep yourself from drifting off.
In your deeply unconscious state, you did not realize your body slowly slumping sideways. He glanced over at you in surprise when you leaned against his side, head on his shoulder. He didn’t try to rouse you, though, knowing you needed the rest. He felt an unexpected rush of warmth but kept himself from wrapping his arm around you.
You slept for a few more hours before you stopped at another motel so he could rest for some time. After that, the rest of the drive went by smoothly, the beautiful, ever-changing scenery making time pass by faster.
In those long hours, you swapped stories and got to know each other better. It was surprisingly nice to talk about things that weren’t related to your line of work, but it also made you realize it was the most you’d actually shared since you’d met.
There were moments where a part of you wished you’d met in different circumstances, staying together for reasons other than duty. When he laughed, uninhibited by his usual worries, and sunlight hit him just right… Sometimes it was easy to forget the rest, if only for a second.
Finally, up in the mountains of Montana, the truck pulled up in front of an old, mostly isolated cabin. Getting out of the truck, you stretched your whole body like a languorous cat and took in your surroundings.
You breathed in the fresh air and felt revitalized by it. A little slice of paradise, perfect for some well-deserved unwinding. Not to mention, ample space for you to explore and hone your skills.
“Well, it’s not exactly the Ritz-Carlton, but…” you trailed off, feigning being unimpressed as you crossed your arms over your chest.
You looked back to see his reaction, unable to help a snicker as he shook his head, rolling his eyes playfully.
“Close enough, though,” you finished saying.
In response, he tossed you his key and nodded toward the front door.
“Why don’t you go ahead, princess?” He said pointedly. “Take a look inside and I’ll bring our stuff in a minute.”
“Eugh, don’t call me that,” you said, shuddering unpleasantly and wrinkling your nose at him.
“What should I call you then?”
You shrugged, making your way up the front steps. “I don’t know, but I’m sure you can come up with something more creative.”
He hummed, pretending to think for a moment. The word brat was the first thing to come to mind, but instead of saying it out loud, he let his sly grin communicate it instead.
You scoffed, more amused than irritated, and turned to open the front door. The inside wasn’t much more impressive than the outside, but you immediately loved the quaint, rustic feel of it. Since Duncan hadn’t been back for a while, the place was definitely in need of some dusting and livening up, but you could see its potential. What thrilled you the most was the fireplace, which would certainly make things cozier.
You smiled. You didn’t actually need anything fancy, just a place you could call home. Somehow, you felt like this would be as close as you would get to it.
You took the liberty of opening the windows to let air circulate throughout and went to the kitchen. You rummaged through his cupboards to see how much you’d have to stock up on and found some oatmeal, a couple of cans of beans and tomato soup, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
The latter made you perk up with renewed interest, taking it out as you heard his heavy footfalls cross the threshold.
“Look what I found,” you said in a slightly sing-song voice, raising the bottle to show him. “We could have our own housewarming party.”
“I’m not so sure if that’s a good idea,” he said, setting your bags down by the old couch.
“Oh come on, at least one drink won’t kill us,” you said. “And not to mention, we totally deserve it.”
He hesitated for another moment, still resistant, but then you wagged your eyebrows at him comically and he had no choice but to give in.
“Fine, one drink it is,” he said, sighing dramatically as he went to retrieve some glasses.
He handed you one and took the bottle from you, uncorking it with his teeth. He poured less than a finger for both of you and you clinked your glass against his in a toast. The amber liquid burned unpleasantly down your throat, making your eyes water. You tried your best not to cough, repeatedly clearing your throat as you grimaced.
“Oh, that’s disgusting,” you said hoarsely, but still you raised your glass again. “Give me some more.”
He laughed at your reaction, already used to the sting. “We said one drink.”
“That hardly counted as a drink, it was more of a sip,” you argued, beginning to feel a little warmth spread through your limbs. “Didn’t think you were stingy like that.”
He scoffed and poured more generously this time. “Is that enough for you, huh?”
And so time slowly began to lose meaning as the two of you finally began to relax. A second drink turned to a third, but that seemed to be enough to get both of you loose-limbed and giggly. You half-heartedly attempted to unpack and set up a bed for yourself on the couch. Duncan swayed and almost took down a lamp with him, both of you dissolving into a fit of laughter.
Night fell and he started a fire in the hearth that you two sat in front of. You shared a can of tomato soup and a few more sips of whiskey, your knees touching casually. His jacket found its way back to your shoulders, his smell a welcome comfort.
“Has anybody ever told you that you’re cute when you’re drunk?” he said, shining eyes scanning your face. “Your whole face is flushed and your eyes are barely open from how much you’ve been laughing.”
Your face felt even hotter under his notice, but you tried to roll your eyes dismissively.
“I’m cute all the time, but maybe you’re just noticing,” you said.
“No, I’ve always noticed,” he said without a hint of hesitation.
Even when you looked over at him with surprise, he didn’t look remorseful. There was a fuzzy feeling in your chest and things came into sharper focus. You swallowed hard and looked down with an unsure chuckle.
“Feeling bold, are you?”
“Had enough liquid courage,” he said, shifting nervously. “I don't… mean anything by it, though. Was that creepy?”
You shook your head, unable to look at him. “I’m just not used to being complimented by you is all.”
And I’m liking your attention more than I’d want to admit. The thought came to your mind unbidden, but you couldn’t ignore the truth behind it. You liked him, but you weren’t sure if there was much that could be done about it. Well, perhaps there was one thing, but you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it yet.
He bumped his shoulder against yours and you finally looked up at him. Your eyes darted down to his lips before returning to meet his gaze. This stirred something deep within him. How had he not noticed? Or perhaps he just hadn’t dared to see what was right in front of him.
“Oh,” he said, voice low. “Is that what you want?”
You nodded, the longing in your gaze undeniable. “Can I?”
He dipped his chin in assent and didn’t move, silently letting you take the lead. You leaned closer to him, eyes dropping back to his lips nervously. You tilted your head slightly to one side and your lips touched his, lingering for a moment, before you pulled away uncertainly.
He still didn’t move other than to nod in reassurance. You brought a hand to his cheek and kissed him again, less hesitant than before. You kept it slow, in no rush to try and deepen the kiss lest the spell be broken. His fingers brushed your arm as he kissed you back, nearly letting himself get lost in it.
But there was a nagging thought in his mind that went against his wishes. It felt right, but that didn’t mean that it was. He was your mentor, after all, and he wasn’t supposed to be anything else but that, as much as he might want to.
He also knew you weren’t meant to stay for a long time, and you both had to be prepared for that. At least now he knew what it felt like to kiss you, but that was about as much as he would let himself indulge.
He pulled away and took a long look at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I don’t think we should be doing this,” he said softly. “It’s not…”
“Appropriate?” You offered.
He nodded and you felt a flush of shame that made your skin prickle. Your want had eclipsed everything else, and you hadn’t really considered the implications, much less the consequences.
You pulled further away from him, the familiar poisonous words that you used to protect yourself rising to the surface. But you found that burning tears threatened to spill out, too, but you kept both of them at bay as you tried to stand up.
“U-um,” You stuttered. “I’m-I’m sorry, it was just the whiskey and I-”
“It’s okay,” he cut in, grabbing your hand before you could walk away. “I wanted it, too.”
You looked down at him, at the earnestness — and was that sadness? — on his face. It made it worse, especially since a part of you knew he was right. You nodded, unsure of how to respond to that, and took your hand away from his grasp.
“We should just sleep it off,” you said softly. “Who knows? Maybe tomorrow we won’t even remember.”
But you would, you knew you would, and you were sure he would too. You could just hope that the remaining time you had with him was not too torturous.
