Written for @atadbitahistory for the @cmgiftexchange - I hope you enjoy it! I burned through 12 WIPs like a mad woman trying to find something that I thought was a gift worthy of you! (I'll eventually have time to work on and post those, too. They're all decent they just didn't quite hit the mark. I'm not sure this one did either, honestly, but I ran out of time and had to make a choice.) Thank you for everything, for always commenting and being so supportive and fun to talk to! I hope you like this! I was really excited to be chosen to write for you. <3
"Um, excuse me…sir?" Garcia asked, clearing her throat as she entered his office timidly. It was late and he didn't realize anyone else was even still there. It had been a long day and he realized with dismay that he'd missed the last train - he would have to call a cab and pay out the nose for a long trip back to D.C.
He had a headache. Not a bad one, just an irritation. A full feeling behind his eyes that every now and then made him reach up to rub at his lids to get some relief. It was the kind of headache that required him to take out his contacts, something he never did at work.
"Yes?" he asked, slipping his glasses quickly off of his nose and palming them, as if she hadn't seen. She made a confused face at the motion.
"I didn't know you wore glasses," she said with a smirk. "From one blind and bespectacled baddie to another…put them back on so you can see, please. I'm not judging."
He smiled a little sheepishly. "I don't wear them often, but after a certain time of night my contacts begin to give me a headache. I didn't think anyone was still here."
"And you don't want anyone to know your eyesight isn't as perfect as the rest of you?"
Her blush was visible even in the low light of the room and his matched. She felt silly for blurting out something like that to him. To Derek? She would have said much worse, but never to Hotch.
"I'm sorry, sir. Sometimes I get carried away and forget who I'm talking to."
"It's alright. Did you need me for something?"
She perked right up at that, remembering why she'd come to his office in the first place. "Yes! I was talking to Janet downstairs and she said that a really long time ago…well you know how old she is…anyway, a long time ago they used to have carolers in the main lobby who would sing for people who came into the building. And I thought maybe we could bring that back! Maybe just on our lunch hour or something, not a whole day. Spread some Christmas cheer! Would you mind if I put a sign up sheet in the kitchen? I'll do all the work on my own time to plan it, I promise."
Hotch smiled sweetly at her as he put his glasses back on, sickened by the vertigo that ensued the minute they were off. His eyesight was atrocious, especially at night. "That sounds nice. I hope a lot of people sign up."
"Would you?"
"Oh. No. I…" he stammered, shaking his head. "No. I wouldn't be any good to you."
Read the rest here: ...and a partridge in a pear tree
Written for the @cmgiftexchange 2025, for the lovely @alexagirlie !
Rating: Explicit, NSFW
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Summary:
Instead of answering, he levels a glare at the other man, lips pulled into a tight line that only seems to confuse his young agent more, whilst Emily jeers in the background.
Criminal Minds | Explicit | One Shot | 4024 worcount
Spencer Reid / Luke Alvez / Aaron Hotchner | Spencer Reid / Derek Morgan
Summary:
Spencer and co, working through the idea of casual or not so casual relationships.
AKA - A fic in four scenes for the wonderful Highway58
Written for the 2025 CM Gift Exchange
@cmgiftexchange
Tags & Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content | Multi Scene One Shot | Gift Fic
View on AO3 for the full fic
It was an unusually mild December evening, during which Spencer was exerting himself riding Derek. The heating wasn't even on, and it was still mild; maybe it was just from all the body heat, though. Spencer thought it could still do with being a little colder, since this little shared exercise of theirs was making him sweat buckets. He was huffing deep lungfuls as he rode his thick lover, while Derek just lay there. Derek was also breathing deeply, but it wasn't from exertion, but rather from his deep arousal. Spencer rode as hard as he could, and Derek happily watched the sweat glisten on Spencer's chest.
The difference in exhaustion wasn't an uncommon one, since Derek was fitter than Spencer, with greater stamina. But it wasn't just that; prior to climbing on top of Derek, Spencer had first been fucking Derek's wife.
for the lovely @putting-the-bi-in-bau for this year's @cmgiftexchange! I love your prompt so much and I would read the heck out of a fic like that! I tried my best to make at least some of it happen in art...
The cut is for... idk maybeee an M rating at most? In my head there are some soft dom! Hotch things going on, but you be the judge of that...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“I never have any normal fans,” he’d once said.
He was both vindicated and depressed to have this confirmed in the form of a stalker.
Now, with his stalker behind bars, Spencer faces putting things back together.
But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone.
Wrote this for the Criminal Minds 2025 Holiday Gift Exchange (@cmgiftexchange) for the excellent @im-up-to-shenanigans! I hope you like it! 💜💜💜
CM Gift Exchange 2025: I Misunderstand, and Feel Like I Catch the Smell of a Time Gone by (Jelle)
For @ellegreenawayslover
@cmgiftexchange
JJ brings Elle back to the office, where she hasn't been in years. Whilst there, the two women (along with several others) provide company to Garcia while she is living in headquarters, unable to return home. | Wordcount: 2.8k | Rating T | Warnings: None |
It was late evening—just before eleven P.M. There were few cars on the road and less in the parking lot as JJ and Elle approached headquarters. JJ dashed through the brisk December air, every part of her at least a little chilly save for one hand, grasped tight by Elle. She scanned her badge to enter the building at Quantico, marking down Elle as a visitor. Elle was silent, unsure of the situation at hand. She only knew that it involved Garcia, and that JJ couldn’t tell her unless they were somewhere secure. Elle’s guess was that they were going back to her old office to chat. She wasn’t sure what had become of that space in the time that she had known JJ, especially since her shift to fully fledged profiler. What she did know for sure was that it wasn’t under JJ’s control anymore.
The case was difficult for all of them—whether it be accepting it even was a case or dealing with its implications. JJ fell firmly in the latter group. Exhaustion seeped deep into her bones; as she sat down on the ground with a cup of only-half-way-decent coffee and tried to relax. She was no use to anyone when she couldn’t focus. Just then a familiar voice echoed across the lot.
“JJ?”
The blonde looked up to see a familiar face. Elle Greenaway was staring down at her with a bag in her hand. She had changed a little since the last time JJ had seen her. Her hair had grown out, although it wasn’t quite as long as before and thick fringe still framed her eyes.
“Elle?” JJ laughed. “Long time no see. What brings you here?”
“Went back to Seattle to tie up some loose ends, and now I’m working my way back to Brooklyn. My guess is you’re here for a case?”
“You’d be correct.”
“And it’s not going so well?”
“That’s right; you were a profiler.”
Elle sat down in the grass next to JJ. The two remained silent for a moment before Elle finally spoke up.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
JJ laughed bitterly.
“Can’t. If someone overhears us and reports it, the unsub could know we’re onto him and then we’ve lost him.”
“And you’re a press liaison.” Elle commented dryly, mirroring JJ’s earlier statement.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” JJ began, laughing slightly at her topic shift, “Why are you at a Sheetz?”
“There was a Wawa in Brooklyn when I was growing up, and I remember you had always said you liked Sheetz better, so when I saw one I figured I had to see if you were right?”
“Was I?”
“Definitley.” Elle chuckled softly. “Look, I haven’t seen you in so long, but I know how much this job takes out of you. If you need to call,” She said, scrawling her number down on a piece of scrap paper, “I’m pretty much always free. It was nice seeing you, JJ”
“You too” JJ said faintly as she watched Elle walk away, just like before.
Elle and JJ entered the elevator. They still hadn’t exchanged a single word. As they reached the sixth floor, Elle felt relief upon seeing a familiar face. Garcia straightened up anxiously and turned around when she heard steps.
“Oh visitors—-Elle?”
“Garcia.” Elle said with a bittersweet tone.
“Wow. I haven’t seen you in a long time. What brings you here?”
“Considering your…situation we thought we’d pay you a visit,” JJ cut in.
“Does Elle know?”
“Not quite,” she grimaced.
Garcia dragged the two women towards her lair whilst muttering something about old acquaintances and why no one ever told her anything. To Elle it felt like coming into her house after a long winter day and being slammed with jarring warmth. She hadn’t forgotten these people entirely, but she had forgotten their essence, their quirks, their mannerisms, their intonation, and their voices. It felt like being “home” again. Sometime on their walk, a taller woman with dark skin and hair turned to face them. Elle noted her quizzical expression, and watched as she slowly started to follow them.
Garcia reached her office and let JJ and Elle inside before closing the door.
“You—You came back! And it’s been 10 years and you never texted or called or anything and—God I’m so sorry Elle; I never meant for any of this to happen and I feel so bad about it. It’s never really the same after that kind of incident and—”
“Garcia. It’s not your fault that I left”
“But the only reason Randall Gardner knew where you lived was because he got into MY network. My—my actions almost cost you your life!”
“You didn’t break into my home, you didn’t shoot me, you didn’t reach into my chest,” Elle reassured. “Those were his decisions, not yours.” And shooting Lee was my choice. A choice I’d make again.
Garcia nodded. The tension in the room eased slightly. Elle’s departure had left a stain on the bureau, even if things looked clean on the paper trail. The agents who remembered her were quick to ignore her absence, but Elle remained in Garcia’s mind, years after the incident. Gardner became a reminder for her: security first. And always more than you think is necessary.
After a brief pause, the woman from earlier opened the door.
“Am I missing something?” she queried.
“Oh! Tara, you probably don’t know Elle. She worked here a while ago. Like—You know how you joined to fill the empty spot left by Kate who filled the spot left by Blake who filled the spot left by Emily when she went to interpol? Well Emily filled the spot left by Elle back in 2006”
“Hi.” Tara said.
“Elle Greenaway.” Elle offered out her hand.
“Dr. Tara Lewis.” Tara shook it.
Four women were now crammed into Garcia’s bat cave.
“It’s like a party here.” JJ laughed.
“I’m not complaining. It’s the most company I’ve had in months. I mean, Anderson is always here but he…” Garcia cringed.
A pause fell over the room.
“Think there’s room for another?” JJ asked.
“Who were you thinking of?” Tara responded.
“Well, I could probably snag Jordan from counter terrorism.”
“I’ll come with you.”
The two left, leaving Garcia and Elle alone in the office.
“So, what is going on?”
“I’m being targeted by a network of hitmen.”
Elle was silent.
“That sounds terrible.” She said after a brief pause.
“Oh trust me. It is. I can’t leave this frickin office, and I haven’t in like a month. It’s worse than getting shot at home—” Garcia watched Elle’s expression change from mild interest to great concern. “I got shot 8 years ago. I thought I got over it, but it never really goes away.”
“Man, do I know it.”
“It’s like just when I thought I could feel safe again, I get slapped with another threat. I just—” She turned to Elle, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “I want to go home.” She averted her eyes and wiped away her tears, a little embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung that on you,” she laughed. “I know I’m safer here, but I just miss it, you know?”
“I get it,” Elle said. “When I got shot,” she took a deep breath. “I didn’t black out right away. I felt him stick his fingers into my chest. It was like I had no control over my body. When I was in the hospital, all I wanted was to go home. When I got home, I realized I didn’t feel safe there. What I wanted from then on was a place to feel safe. But I found myself missing little things from my old apartment, even if it wasn’t somewhere I could go.”
It has been over a year—almost three, in fact—since Elle had gotten shot, yet it still hung heavy on her mind. Most days were alright, but some nights she’d still wake up, drenched in sweat and surrounded by the feeling of paranoia, of knowing she could never feel truly safe in her own home. Sometimes she’d have dreams that she was still in her old apartment. She had bought it, rather than renting with the assumption she’d be in D.C for a while. It was a foolish choice, looking back. She’d be haunted by the back door and windows when she closed her eyes. The sofa would appear under her rather than her bed, and she would once again become prey to the Fisher King.
Having just woken up from one of these nightmares, she was sitting on the edge of her bed trying to recover. It was early morning still, around seven, when her phone began to ring. She didn’t know the number, but still answered the call.
“Elle Greenaway, how can I help you”
“Elle,”
She was surprised to hear JJ’s voice, but remembered their brief meeting and exchange of numbers.
“Is everything alright?” She asked. “It’s pretty early.”
“Yeah. We—we just finished up that case. The one from the other day?”
“And?” Elle said. She couldn’t nod, or turn her head in any way which would be understandable to JJ over a phone call, so she hoped her response sounded intrigued and not condescending or bored.
“It’s just been weighing on me, and I’m really sorry to bother you, but could—never mind.”
“No, no. It’s alright. What about it has got you worked up?”
“There was a tragedy, a fire, and a bunch of kids died. Not all of their parents were handling it that well, but they were going to a group, to handle the stress of it all. Someone there—an angel of mercy killer—would find them and kill them but he made them look like suicides.”
“Did someone you were close with commit?”
“...”
Elle cringed at the silence on the other end of the line. She shouldn’t have asked that, especially considering she just finished the case.
“My sister,” JJ said after a moment. “She was a lot older than me but I was the one who found her. She meant a lot to me, and so cases like this just sort of…” she trailed off.
Elle nodded—even if JJ couldn’t see it— unsure of what to say. Another silence blossomed between the two.
“I have to get going,” JJ said after a moment. “Thanks for letting me call”
“Of course,” Elle said. “And JJ?”
“Hmm?”
“If you ever want to talk, feel welcome to call back.”
Just then, JJ and Tara returned with another woman, presumably the aforementioned Jordan from counterterrorism. She smiled as JJ and Tara pulled her into the lair with them.
“Jordan Todd,” She said whilst shaking Elle’s hand.
“Elle Greenaway,” she responded. “I heard good things about you. You took over while JJ was on maternity leave back in ‘09.”
“Yeah, how’d you hear about it?”
Elle glanced knowingly at JJ, who returned her stare. Tara glanced between them. Jordan’s dazzling smile faltered slightly as she stared at JJ, perplexed. Garcia furrowed her brows for a moment.
“You two…” she grinned. The pieces clicked in her mind.
“Caught red-handed,” JJ smiled. “We’ve been together for about 8 years now,” she said. “We reconnected about a year and a half after I left the unit.”
She instinctively moved her hand to grab Elle’s.
“Well,” Garcia began. “How did you get together? Tell me the details.”
Just as JJ was about to answer, someone knocked at the door and a familiar raven haired woman poked her head in.
“Emily?” JJ questioned. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, given the circumstances I thought I’d check up on you.” She scanned the faces of all the women in the room. “Hi Jordan, nice to see you again. You too, Tara.” Her eyes eventually landed on Elle. They stared at each other for a moment, and then she introduced herself.
“Emily Prentiss.”
“Elle Greenaway.”
“So… is there room for another?”
“Join the party.”
“Just as your story was getting good,” Tara said.
“Well,” Elle continued. “After that day we started talking more.”
Tuesdays were usually when they would call. Tuesdays and Sundays. Elle had begun taking classes online, hoping to further her education and those were usually the days she was least busy.
“I’m back in D.C for a little while,” Elle said, one Sunday afternoon. “Would you like to meet up somewhere?”
“Sure! What place did you have in mind?”
“Just a local Cuban restaurant, somewhere I enjoyed when I still lived here.” She said,
Later that evening, the two met up about a block away. They spent a few moments just staring at each other, fully taking in how they had changed over the course of two years. JJ looked older. More tired, but her eyes still had the shine in them Elle remembered. Elle looked a little more battered than she had in ‘05, but she persisted. They were both dressed semi-formally, Elle in a nice blouse and trousers, JJ in a cardigan, collared shirt, and skirt. As they walked, their hands brushed up against each other slightly, sending jolts of emotion up their arms and into their hearts. They ate their food, chatting politely. From then on, it became an unspoken tradition: when JJ didn’t have an active case, they went out on Sundays.
After a couple months, they kissed. It wasn’t like it was a new sensation—they had both kissed other people before. This time was different though. It felt almost as if there was a magnetic pull between them, begging their lips to meet again when they drew apart after a moment. JJ ran her hands through Elle’s hair, noticing how soft it was, and how nice it smelled. When Elle pulled away, traces of JJ’s lipstick had transferred to her own lips. It was like a little souvenir when she went home at the end of the night.
The office was now full. There was no way anyone else could fit in there, but it didn’t feel cramped. Garcia’s carefully placed gentle lighting blended with the cool brightness of her screens, and the scattered decor and warmth from the rush of people made it feel cozy. The women had been laughing, and swapping stories. Comparing battle scars and greatest successes. Regrets and hopes.
“What’s the worst case experience you’ve ever had? Not like bad-worst, but funny-worst?” Garcia questioned. She had moved to the floor, where everyone else was sitting around in a circle.
“I think 12 hours on the road with Morgan,” Elle said. “You never know someone until you’ve shared a car with them.”
“Emily,” Jordan said. “Remember ‘God’s gift to women?’” Jordan bit her lip and squinted her eyes, mocking Viper’s intonation as she spoke.
Emily laughed.
“As messed up as that case was, I’ll still never forget his face when we were done tag teaming him,”
“It wasn’t a case,” JJ said, reflecting on her memories in bars. “But Brad?”
“‘Criminal ass,” Prentiss mumbled under her breath, to everyone else’s resounding laughter.
“I don’t think I’ve been here long enough for a fun story like that,” Tara said. She shook her head. “Just messed up ones.” The others nodded, aware of the feeling. That was always how it went with work like this. “Although, I have had some interesting experiences interviewing serials.”
Their games continued through the night, with them barely noticing as they pushed past midnight into 1 AM, which became 2 AM, which became 3 AM. They all had later nights before, but this one didn’t feel tiring—quite the opposite, actually. Their company lifted each other’s spirits.
Later, sometime in the early morning, Jordan politely excused herself and returned to Counter-terrorism.
The others began to feel dreary, with the exception of Prentiss, still running on U.K time, and Garcia, who seldom seemed tired.
“I didn’t expect time to pass that fast," Tara groaned as she glanced at the time on one of Garcia’s monitors. “Well, I’ll put on the coffee.”
“Thanks,” JJ said. “Garcia, do we have a new case?”
“Yeah. Florida. Bodies were found—Oh wait. Elle. I can probably tell you the details, I doubt anyone would find out.”
“I think I might just get going in that case,” said Elle. “Although I appreciate your transparency.”
“Thanks for stopping by,” Garcia said. “It was nice to be able to take my mind off of things and just relax for the first time in God knows how long.” She stared as Elle picked up her belongings. “You know you can always call,” she sheepishly said.
Elle smiled weakly, but didn’t respond.
“Seriously. I mean it. If I lose you again I’m not above hacking your computer~” Garcia teased.
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Well,” JJ said. She glanced at her watch. “Looks like my work day is just getting started. See you tonight, Elle.” It was punctuated with a barely audible “hopefully”, and a kiss on the cheek from Elle.
Elle found herself exiting the same way she came, only with her heart much more full of love.
I believe I’ve added everything to the masterlist. If I haven’t reblogged your gift I will be doing it later today ❤️ thank you so much to everyone who has already posted.
A/N: This was written for the CM Gift Exchange hosted by @cmgiftexchange and was written for the talented @a-kinkajou !! Hope you enjoy it!
Can also be found on AO3!
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Ship: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid
Rating: E
Tags: post season 9 demons, getting together, confessions, first kiss, first time, body worship, oral sex, anal sex, Spencer getting praise, Hotch using sweetheart.
Summary:
Spencer had just eased himself down onto the couch, Blake's credentials tucked sately away in his messanger bag, when an urgent knock sounded at the door. Spencer startled, a pained hiss escaping his lips when the movement jarred the fresh stitches on the side of his neck. He stood with a frown, wondering who could possible be bothering him at 10pm on a wednesday night.
He left the chain lock on and opened the door the three inches it allowed. Through the gap he saw the last person he expected, besides Blake returning, her mind changed.
"Hotch??"
Spencer had just eased himself down onto the couch, Blake's credentials tucked sately away in his messanger bag, when an urgent knock sounded at the door. Spencer startled, a pained hiss escaping his lips when the movement jarred the fresh stitches on the side of his neck. He stood with a frown, wondering who could possible be bothering him at 10pm on a wednesday night.
He left the chain lock on and opened the door the three inches it allowed. Through the gap he saw the last person he expected, besides Blake returning, her mind changed.
"Hotch??"
Spencer quickly shut the door and unlatched the chain before opening it again, wider so he could properly see his bosses face.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, completely bewildered by the older man's presence on his doorstop. Hotch had never been to his apartment before, nor did he know how he had even gotten into the building.
"I needed to see that you were okay."
Spencer clocked the word needed, suggesting a deeper emotional drive then he was used to seeing from Hotch. The other man's face was more expressive then normal as well, clearly showing concern and… determination?
Suitably intrigued Spencer decided to humor the invasion of his personal space and opened the door wider, beckoning the other man into his apartment.
"I'm fine." He stated simply as he closed the door behind Hotch and relocked it.
"You were shot." The other man replied, exasperation colouring his tone as he looked around Spencer's apartment. "Fine might be a stretch."
Spencer huffed out a breath.
"Hurts a lot less then last time I was shot." He replied honestly, thinking of the months of rehabilitation he went through after getting shot in the knee almost 5 years prior. "Stitches come out in 10 days and I should be field ready not long after."
Hotch turned to study him for a moment. "Can I see?" He asked.
Spencer nodded slowly and then unexpectedly Hotch reached out and with just the tips of his fingers on Spencer jaw turned his head slowly, exposing the side of his neck covered in gauze and tape. Spencer breath caught in his chest as gentle hands peeled the edge of the tape away from his skin, revealing the neat set of stitches underneath.
Hotch just stared, for exactly 72 seconds, and Spencer resisted the urge to squirm, or start rambling, under the scrutiny. Finally Hotch folded the gauze back over the wound and carefully pressed the tape back in place. Still he said nothing.
Finally Spencer couldn't stand the silence any longer.
"Hotch?"
He had barely gotten the name out before warm lips were against his. One large, strong hand gently cupped the uninjured side of his face, the other settled on the curve of his ribs, fingers digging into the fabric of his dress shirt.
It only took Spencer's mind a second to catch up to what was happening then his own hands flew up, cradling the back of Hotch head and kissing back with everything he had.
It wasn't a soft or slow kiss, it was hungry and demanding with a touch of desperation. Hotch's tongue pressed against the seam of Spencer lips and he opened his mouth immediately allowing the other man to taste and explore him until they were both gasping for breath. Spencer finally had to push Hotch away to catch his breath and the other man pressed their foreheads together as they breathed.
"Hotch…" he whispered, hesitated, not sure if he should press for answers now or let the night run it's course.
Hotch huffed out a soft breath and tugged softely at the strands of hair under his fingers. Spencer gasped, a jolt of heat running down his spine, but he didn't let it tempt him to kiss Hotch again and ignore the need to talk things through.
"Aaron, talk to me."
"I love you."
Spencer's breath caught in his lungs and he pulled his head away from Hotch so he could study the other man, searching for any signs of deceit. He didn't think Hotch would lie or joke about something like this but Spencer had never imagined those words being said to him. Ever.
"I have for .. years. First as a colleague, a friend, but lately it's become… more." Spencer could read no lie in Hotch's words, instead his face was open with sincerity.
"Why did you never say anything?" Spencer heart was pounding, all but trying to burst from his chest.
"I'm your boss." Hotch replied with a small shrug. "I was afraid of how it would be perceived, the impropriety of it all. Plus I was never sure how you felt. How you would react."
Hotch's thumb brushed against the curve of his jaw and the older man leaned in to press a single featherlight kiss to his lips before pulling back again.
"I love you too." Spencer replied, his lips curving up uncontrollably. "I have for… a long time."
This time it was Spencer who leaned in and connected their lips again. It was slower this time, but deeper and filled with passion. He couldn't decide where he wanted to touch Hotch, his hands traveling into his hair, then down his neck and finally across the front of his chest, his fingers gripping around the other man's tie. It took several minutes for Spencer to pull away and continue with his next question.
"What made you change your mind?" He asked as he gave the tie an encouraging pull. "What made you come here tonight?"
Hotch released a heavy breath. "You almost died." He stated, "twice. So I told myself if you pulled through it was time to stop being a coward."
"I'm glad you did." Spencer replied.
"Me too."
Spencer's fingers wrapped more securely around his bosses silk tie and used it to lead Hotch along as Spencer stepped back further into his apartment.
Spencer moaned as Hotch caught his bottom lip between his own, the scrap of teeth sending a jolt of lust down his spine. His feet twisted together and it was only Hotch's fast reflexes that stopped them from stumbling to the floor and ruining the mood. Instead he guided Spencer into his lap as he sank down on the younger man's couch, legs spread wide to support his weight.
Spencer choked on a moan as their new position meant his ass was pressed snug to Hotch's cock and he could feel the hard line of it, and it felt deliciously thick and long. He couldn't stop his hips as they jerked forward, both to feel Hotch against him but also to get some pressure to his own throbbing cock.
Hotch's hands gripped his hips tight enough to bruise, guiding the grind of their bodies together, deepening the motion and his head flung back and he groaned deep in his chest. Spencer was memorized by the sight, the way his hair was a chaotic mess, the flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. He had done this. He had reduced his normally unflappable boss to this.
Spencer grabbed Hotch on either side of his face and tipped his head down to reconnect their lips. They stayed rocking together, exchanging biting kisses until the heat in Spencer's stomach had built into an inferno and he spared a passing thought to the way he was racing towards coming in his pants like a teenager when Hotch stilled his hips and pressed a light peck to his mouth before pulling back just enough to let them breath.
"Shh slowdown… there's no rush." He murmered in the space between them.
"Bedroom?" Spencer whispered back and when Hotch nodded Spencer extracted himself carefully from Hotch's lap and climbed unsteadily to his feet.
He kept his fingers wrapped around Hotch's tie and he tugged on it to encourage the other man in a silent request to stand which Hotch obliged. As soon as the other man was standing Spencer pulled him in for another series of heated kisses as he directed them down the hall.
Spencer was silently thanking his decision to accept a prescription from the hospital for Toradol and he had taken a dose not 30 minutes prior to Hotchs arrival. His neck barely throbbed as they continued to kiss as he led them blindly towards his bedroom, easily ignored.
As they crossed the threshold he deftly unwound the knot under his fingers and pulled Hotch's tie from around his neck, letting the wrinkled fabric fall to the floor.
Hotch hesitated just passed the threshold of his bedroom, his broad frame filling the doorway.
"Are you sure?" He asked, fingers tangling with Spencers and keeping them close to his chest.
Spencer's heart fluttered at the care the other man was showing, and instead of answering in words he raised their joined hands so he could press a kiss to Hotch's knuckles. First one hand then the other. He could hear Hotch's breath catch at the featherlight contact. He released Hotch's hands and they fell back to the other man's side. Spencer then reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, his own tie long discarded before Hotch arrived.
He had only gotten the first two buttons open when Hotch reached out and gently stopped his work, his hands warm over Spencer's.
"Let me?" He asked, face earnest, gaze locked on the small strip of skin already revealed at Spencer's collar.
Spencer nodded, letting his hands fall from their task and allowing Hotch to take over.
Hotch started on the buttons of Spencer dress shirt, fingers quick and efficient and soon the fabric was sliding down Spencer's arms and falling to the floor. He then gently eased Spencer undershirt over his head, taking care to not jostle his head and tweak his neck.
He wasted no time getting Spencer belt unbuckled before he knelt at Spencer's feet to slid his slacks and underwear down his legs. Spencer's cock twitched at the sight of the other man on his knees but Hotch was focused on his task and didn't look up until he was back on his feet.
"Sit back." He commanded and Spencer was helpless but to obey and sat on the edge of the bed to allow Hotch to remove his socks.
Now that Spencer was stretched out on the bed and fully naked he turned his attention to himself. He didn't drag it out, didn't tease, just removed his clothing with hurried hands as Spencer watched with awe as each inch of skin was revealed to him.
When Hotch pushed his slacks and underwear down his cock bounced free, hard and straining up towards his stomach. Spencer's previous intuition was correct, he was… big, and Spencer found his gaze locked on the hard lenght, imagining the stretch as it pushed inside him, how good it would feel.
"Spencer."
The call of his name snapped him out of his daze and he flushed at being caught oggling the other man's cock.
The look on the other mans face was fondly amused, features softened in a way Hotch almost never showed in the office.
"Lay back for me sweetheart?" Hotch asked he rested one knee on the edge of the bed at Spencer's feet. "Let me take care of you."
Spencer felt his face heat at the pet name, his whole body melting into a puddle from the warmth it caused to flood through him.
Spencer tried not to squirm as Hotch began slowly kissing his way up his body. He started at the ankles, spreading Spencer legs and crawling his way up between them. Kiss after kiss. Ankle, knee, inner thighs. Just firm enough to not tickle, and pulled small, breathless sounds from Spencer's mouth.
When he reached the apex of Spencer's legs he hoped to feel that mouth on his aching cock but Hotch skipped right passed it without so much as a glance and Spencer whined desperately.
"Shh sweetheart, patience." Hotch murmered as he kissed just above Spencer's navel before surging up to claim his mouth, their bodies sliding deliciously together.
Spencer moaned into the kiss, his body arching up to acheive as much contact as possible with the impossibly warm body above his. He held Hotch close as the older man steals the very breath from his lungs before Hotch begun to trail his mouth across Spencer jaw and down his neck. This time Spencer feels the introducion of teeth to the mix and he gasped and moaned as Hotch left a path of vivid red marks down his neck and chest, each suck and scrap of teeth making him louder and louder.
"Your being so good for me, so perfect." Hotch murmered before he sucked Spencer's left nipple into his mouth and bite down.
Spencer threw his head back against the pillows, the jolt of pain shooting down his neck nothing compared to the pleasure racing through his veins as Hotch's hand came up to pinch and twist the other nipple.
Spencer cried out as Hotch alternated, back and forth, until his chest was hot and red and his nipples were tender and sensitive before he continued his journey down Spencer's body. Once Hotch was back to his hips he sat back on his heels to observe his work.
Spencer peeled his eyes open, not remembering when he had closed them, and observed Hotch through hooded lids. The other man was flushed, pink down to his chest and his lips appeared swollen from all the attention he had lavished on Spencer. The open hunger on his face surprised Spencer, he had never had a bed partner look at him quite like that before.
Hotch reached down and gave his cock a few short tugs and Spencer found his gaze locked onto the exotic sight. He couldn't help but squirm with impatience as his own cock throbbed and leaked where it lay against his abdomen.
"Aaron.. please." He begged, his hips rocking back and forth in desperation to be touched.
Hotch released his cock and ran a firm hand up Spencer's flank but did not give into Spencer's not-so subtle demand.
"Please what?" He crooned, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Use your words sweetheart."
Spencer groaned in frustration but did as the older man asked, pushing through the embarrassment of having to ask for what he wants out loud.
"Please touch me." His voice was barely above a whisper but he knew Hotch heard him when that smirk turned into a proper smile.
"Good boy."
Spencer gasped, then moaned brokenly as Hotch wrapped a calloused hand around his cock and gave him a firm stroke from root to tip. His thumb circled around the head, spreading the copious amount of wetness that had accumulated, before he leaned over and took the head in his mouth.
Spencer keened as he was surrounding by tight, wet heat as Hotch sunk his mouth even further down, his hand covering what his mouth couldn't. Wet noises filled the room as Hotch bobbed his head, sinking his mouth lower and lower until Spencer's cock slid to the back of Hotch's throat and his nose was pressed to Spencer's stomach. Spencer gripped the bedspread with both and cried out as Hotch swallowed around him, overhelmed and already feeling the tingling that signaled he was getting close.
Suddenly Hotch's mouth left his cock and Spencer whined mindlessly at the loss.
"Shhh sweetheart, I've got you." Hotch panted against his hip, voice hoarse and abused.
His hand took over where his mouth left off, pumping Spencer leisurely as he stuck two fingers of his other hand between his lips and got them nice and wet.
"Spread your legs for me Sweetheart."
Spencer could do nothing but obey, brain offline but could never not listen to that voice, and he spread his legs wide and tilted his hips up as Hotch dragged those wet fingers over his tight balls and down towards his entrance. They circled his rim, ever increasing the pressure until he relaxed enough for one to sank past the muscles.
He panted with his mouth open, as that first finger became two, then Hotch shuffled down the bed and added his mouth to mix. The hand on his cock slipping away to grip his ass cheek and spread him open even wider for Hotch's tongue and fingers to fuck him open until he felt loose and boneless.
Every time Hotch came up to breathe he was talking, the sound muffled through the ringing in Spencer's ears. He told Spencer about how much Hotch had longed for and dreamt of this moment, of them together. How well he was taking Hotch's fingers, how good he tasted, how sinful he sounded.
The pressure built and built and between one press and the next Hotch fingers scrapped against his prostate and Spencer came, hard. His cock jerking and coating his stomach and chest in streak after streak of white.
Spencer lost track of time as he got his breath back, Hotch petting along his thighs soothingly.
"Back with me?"
Spencer nodded, arms coming up to cover his face, beyond mortified he had come like that.
"That was the hottest thing I have ever seen."
Spencer lowered his arms at those words, looking towards Hotch and seeing how hard his cock was, standing straight up, angry and red against his stomach.
Hotch cocked his head and gave Spencer an assesing look. "Can you come again?"
Spencer nodded, still too embarrassed for words even with the knowledge that Hotch had liked it.
"Good." Hotch replied, slipping his fingers out of Spencer's hole. "The next one will be on my cock."
Spencer bit back a moan, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his spent cock twitched against his stomach and started to fill back up.
Hotch grinned, "yeah? You want me to fuck you sweetheart?"
Spencer nodded again and reached over to the bedside table to dig out lube and a condom.
As he lay back on the bed Hotch collected the items from him and ripped the condom open with his teeth before rolling it on. The lube quickly followed, a generous amount being slicked down his cock. Spencer's gaze once again locked on the sight of Hotch's hands on himself. How much bigger his cock looked when gripped in his broad hands.
It made him clench around nothing, desperate to have Hotch inside him.
They rearranged themselves carefully so Spencer was as comfortable as possible as Hotch settled himself between his thighs with Spencer's legs pressed firmly to the mattress on either side of him.
Hotch slid two fingers, slick with lube, back inside Spencer before he lined his cock up and pushed in. There was a moment of resistance but Spencer bore down and the head of Hotch's cock breached him. Spencer could barely catch his breath it felt so good as Hotch's cock sunk in inch by inch. Slow and steady until Hotch's hips met his ass and he was fully inside.
Spencer clenched down on the thick cock inside him and Hotch groaned, long and loud before he pulled out half way and thrust back in.
"You feel so perfect around me. So tight." Hotch punctuated his statement with another slow, deep thrust of his hips.
It wasn't fast fucking, but a steady, slow rocking, nice and deep which left Spencer feeling absolutely boneless. He let Hotch's control everything and with just a few adjustments the older man's cock was hitting his prostate with the same accuracy Hotch was known for in the field.
Spencer couldn't stop the sounds coming out of his mouth, moan after moan with each thrust of Hotch's hips, not even caring how loud he was being. Or how many noise complaints he might receive from his neighbours in the morning.
"Taking me so good sweetheart." Spencer keened at the continued compliments. The praise going a long way to helping Spencer's cock get back to full hardness, leaking and red.
Spencer wished he could say the second orgasm took longer then the first but the reality was all it took was Hotch shifting positions. He brought Spencer's legs up over the crook of his elbows and somehow he sank in even deeper then before and suddenly Spencer was right there on the edge again
"Aaron," he moaned. "I'm close."
Hotch responded by wrapping one broad hand around Spencer's cock and stroked, one, two, three times and he was coming again. His whole body tensed up as he added to the mess on his stomach.
Hotch groaned, curling over Spencer's body and his hips jerked, hard, before stilling, his head resting against Spencer's chest.
They laid there for several minutes, Spencer wasn't sure exactly how long, his brain was blissfully quiet as they got their breath back. Then with a tired groan Hotch pushed himself back up and pulled his softening cock out of Spencer's body. Spencer whined softly at the empty feeling as Hotch shuffed to the edge of the bed to dispose of condom.
"I'll be right back." He murmured as he got to his feet and exited the bedroom, presumably heading towards the washroom.
15 seconds later and Spencer's hunch was confirmed as the sound of running water came from the hallway. Another 23 seconds and Hotch was returning, a damp cloth in hand.
Hotch gently cleaned him up, paying special attention to the congealing mess on his stomach and chest while Spencer could barely keep his eyes open. The long day and two orgasms taking their toll on him.
"We can talk more in the morning." Hotch said as he threw the soiled cloth in Spencer's laundry hamper.
Spencer nodded and Hotch helped Spencer under the covers before he climbed into the bed himself and they quickly fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.
Spencer woke the next morning alone in bed and at first he was convinced it had all been a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream. Until he felt the lingering warmth Hotch left in the sheets beside him, a hint of woody cologne clinging to his skin and the sound of ceramic clinking from the kitchen. He was just debating getting out of the bed himself when the bedroom door was pushed open and Hotch returned. Two large mugs of steaming coffee balanced carefully in his hands, the bottle of Toradol trapped under his arm.
He was only wearing his undershirt and briefs, a soft smile forming when he spotted Spencer was awake.
This is my gift for the absolutely fabulous @reiding-cm-fic or this year’s @cmgiftexchange.
I hope this deeply angsty, Spencer Whump, Team-as-Family trauma recovery fic is exactly what you were hoping for! I had a blast writing it. Thanks for the interesting, complex prompt. Really got to stretch my angst muscle!
Happy holidays <3
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: The BAU Team & Spencer Reid
Characters: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi
Additional Tags: Mental Breakdown, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid Gets a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, mentions of drug usage, Temporary Amnesia, some graphic imagery, including an extended drowning metaphor, The BAU Team as Family (Criminal Minds), Case Fic, Non-Canonical Trauma, Spencer Reid Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone helps Spencer recover from his trauma
Summary:
Spencer is usually good at treading water.
His life has been a slow drip of trauma, only broken up by torrents and floods. When it rains, he supposes. He can’t remember ever being fully above water. He’s always at least half-drowning. Life has always been a constant battle of keeping afloat, keeping his head up enough to suck in trembling breaths. He swims. He tries to float. He’s gotten good at swimming. At least, good enough not the drown.
Usually, at least.
Right now, Spencer’s on the bottom of the lake. He’s slowly drowning, watching as the bubbles drift up from his mouth. He’s drowning. And this time, he actually will.
—
Spencer has a mental health episode, and his family rally around to help
I am delighted to announce that in the @cmgiftexchange I had the great good fortune to have @masterwords as my giftee. (Which is fitting and also very funny and also led to a great deal of panic, because oh lord, Hotchgan for the queen of Hotchgan, what will I write her??)
So, as the AO3 summary says, I thought "Hotch whump! Season two? No. Lo-fi arc? No. Season five? No. What does she want? The semi-canonical divorce arc I'll never write!" Did I write that? No. But I wrote something that isn't not that and is also sort of a coda to 7x20 "The Company", and it's here: what will we call it (when it's no longer love). (The second chapter is all the divorce arc snippets from tumblr for everyone not closely following my tumblr.)
Merry Christmas, friend! I hope this helps brighten your twelve days of Chirstmas, and makes your yuletide gay. :)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
My submission for @cmgiftexchange this year! A hotchreid sickfic, holiday style, written for @starzzyeyed! I hope you enjoy, and happy holidays everyone!
