you were crying, admittedly over something silly, but spencer didn’t care that it was silly. he had his arms wrapped tightly around you in a hug while your head was buried in his chest, your arms tucked inside the safe cocoon he had wrapped you in. when he felt your sobs subside he loosened his hold on you, pulled back slightly, and put one of his hands underneath your chin to tilt your face up towards him. you reluctantly obliged and allowed him to get a look at you, but you kept your gaze down, embarrassed. when you finally lifted your eyes to meet his you were met with the softest expression, his concern for you apparent in his big, brown eyes. “you’re okay,” he said softly. he used his thumb to wipe away the leftover tears on your face and then moved his other hand to your face so that he was holding your head gently on both sides. he leaned down towards you and as your eyes fluttered shut he gave a soft kiss to each of your eyelids and then the tip of your nose before pulling back. you couldn’t help but smile and when you opened your eyes, he was looking down at you with a smile that matched yours.
you're on spencer's lap and his tongue is swirling around yours in an impossibly deep kiss. you roll your hips into his, grinding hard against him, feeling heat pool in your lower abdomen. needing air, you break apart from him but stay so close your lips are still touching and you pant heavily into his open mouth. your eyes flick to his and seeing the same hunger you feel reflected in his eyes ignites something in you. you pull his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking hard, until he fights you for control and envelopes your mouth with his, pulling you into another long, breathless, deep kiss. you feel the fire grow within you and you shift slightly so that you're grinding on his thigh. you rock rhythmically against him, your drenched underwear soaking his clothed thigh.
he pulls his mouth from yours and looks down to watch the tantalizing motion of your hips rocking against his leg.
"can you cum just from this? just from riding my thigh?"
"yes," you whine.
"okay, let me see."
he stops you for a second, motions for you to rise up slightly, and he pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your dripping cunt to the air. his hands float to your hips, encouraging you to continue. you drop back down on him, the feeling of your bare clit rubbing directly against the rough fabric of his jeans is indescribable. he uses his firm grip on you to push you further onto him, and you quicken your pace, the searing pleasure in your clit overwhelming you.
you let out a whimper and bury your face into the crook of spencer's neck, only for him to tug at your hair and pull you back to face him.
"i wanna see you," he says, which elicits a whine from you. "you look so fucking pretty like this."
your back arches slightly at the sound of his praise, your pace quickening even more. his one hand still in your hair fists it tighter, earning another whimper from you.
"yeah? you like being told how pretty you are?"
"mhmm," you moan -- you can barely think, let alone respond. you are so close.
"cum for me, pretty girl. show me how pretty you are when you cum."
“god– fuck, spencer,” you whine, as your rhythm falters slightly and the pleasure in your clit becomes almost too much to bear. “spencer, fuck, i’m coming.”
your mouth falls open and your eyes shut as your hips jerk erratically on his thigh. you dissolve into pleasure as small whines escape your open mouth. as the wave passes, your movements start to slow and you feel your pussy pulsing. your hips still and when your eyes flutter open, you’re met with a deep kiss from spencer.
“god you’re so beautiful,” he says. he encourages you to lift off of him and lie back and he follows you down and covers your body with his. “do that again for me,” he says as his fingers find their way to your wet, wanting pussy.
you’re lying on the couch with spencer; he’s on his back between your legs and his head is resting on your chest. your hands are running through his tousled hair and you’re massaging small gentle circles on his scalp with the tips of your fingers. you drag your fingers from his hair down to his face, ghosting the skin of his cheeks, where his stubble is just starting to grow in. drawing your fingers down to his jaw, you trace his jawline with feather light touches. you bring your fingers to his soft, plush lips, pulling the skin of them as you lightly drag your finger over them. moving to his nose, you run your fingertips up and down the bridge, as if to memorize the exact angle at which it slopes. you repeat these motions – fingertips lazily trailing across different parts of his face – thinking, wishing, you could do this forever and ever.
“god, you’re so fucking pretty, spence.”
in lieu of a verbal response, he reaches for your hand and brings it to his mouth, planting soft, warm kisses across your knuckles. he thinks, wishes, he could do this forever and ever.
spencer is standing in the shower, hot water spraying down on him, steam filling the room. his thoughts are on you and he feels a familiar tug he can’t ignore, his hand seemingly acting on its own accord as it trails down his stomach towards his aching, already half hard cock. his fingers lightly thread through his pubes, spending some time there before moving his hand to his balls, fondling them lazily, almost teasing himself by denying himself the touch where he wants it most. his head falls back as he enjoys building himself up more, his thoughts on you, your lips, your warm, wet mouth. finally, because he can’t bare it any longer, his hand moves to his cock, his flat palm rubs up and down the length of it before fully tightening his grip around it, fisting it up and down. he begins to pump a little faster, a little harder, stopping for a second to allow his thumb to swipe over the tip. flashes of you fill his vision — fuck, he wishes his hand was yours. he braces himself against the tiled wall of the shower with his free hand, widens his stance a little as he continues pumping his rock hard cock. “oh fuck,” he whispers to no one, as he increases the speed of his hand. he’s fully whimpering now, unable to stop the small whines from escaping his mouth — god, he’s getting close. your name falls from his lips, his hand movements becoming more erratic as he teeters on the edge. he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his hips are rocking into his hand, he’s not gonna last much longer. fuck, his vision starts to turn white as stars explode behind his eyes, he tumbles over the edge as needy whines pour from his open mouth, white hot cum spurting onto the shower wall, the floor. god. he starts to come down, his chest heaving, body trembling slightly as he regains awareness. steadying himself, he moves to stand under the spray, turning the water to cold.
alex blake x reader
drabble, 951 words
summary: picking up a coffee for alex while on a case
author’s note: this is my first time writing anything for fun in my life and it’s obviously my first time uploading my writing to the internet, so needless to say, i’m very nervous. i really hope you enjoy <3
It was 2pm and you and Hotch had just pulled into a parking spot outside of the precinct in the town you’ve been holed up in for the last three days. You had been out all day, first to two of the crime scenes and then to speak with the coroner who had examined one of the victim’s bodies and, if you were being honest with yourself, were really starting to drag. The thought of the slightly sludgy and flavourless coffee sitting in the pot in the kitchen of the precinct seemed very unappealing to you. “Hey do you mind if I grab a coffee before heading in?” you asked, while shutting the car door. “Not at all,” Hotch said as he rounded the SUV and started heading towards the precinct. “Want anything?” you called back as you split off from him, heading towards the coffee shop a block away that you had noticed on the drive back. “No, I’m okay.”
You walked into the coffee shop and were struck with how charming it was. Nothing like the trendy but admittedly stark type of coffee shop you’d normally frequent back in DC, this one was adorned with kitschy decorations and reminded you a little of Lorelei’s inn from Gilmore Girls. You ordered two oat lattes, one for you and one for Alex, who you knew was back at the precinct going over some notes with Spencer. Feeling slightly guilty at the thought of Spencer and not wanting to arise suspicion from him or Hotch about why you brought back a coffee for just Alex, you ordered an americano for Spence — and “oooh how about three snickerdoodle cookies? And you know what, I’ll take a bran muffin as well, thanks!” (You didn’t want to come back with nothing for Hotch, even though he said he didn’t want anything, and for some reason he didn’t strike you as a snickerdoodle type of guy)
While waiting at the end of the counter for your drinks, your four treats stuffed into your bag, your mind drifted back to Alex. You sort of had feelings for her (okay, you most definitely had feelings for her) and you were pretty sure those feelings were reciprocated, but it wasn’t something either of you have ever talked about or acknowledged out loud. But there was definitely something there. The way she adoringly looks at you has to mean something, as do the smiles you share, the constant glances you catch from her in your direction, the glances she catches from you in her direction. The lingering, but casual touches to your shoulder, her leg, the small of your back, the constant desire to be near each other. The wordless communication you seem to share, understanding each other’s feelings from just a look or a nod. The coffees you buy each other, the lunches, the dinners when you’re stuck late at the office together. You think back to that time in Seattle, when you, JJ, and Morgan were at a crime scene in the pouring rain. Alex had taken a detour while en route to speak with a witness just to drop off your FBI jacket you had accidentally left back at the precinct, wanting to get it to you because she knew you’d be freezing without it. It’s these little things that show you’re always thinking about each other and you know it has to mean something. You smiled at the memory but were taken out of your reverie by the barista calling your name to indicate your coffees were ready. You slipped your three drinks into a to go tray and headed out back towards the precinct.
You walked into the BAU’s designated conference room with your to go tray of coffees and saw Alex and Spencer standing at a whiteboard — Spencer scrawling something messily on the board, Alex’s eyes following his hand, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She turned her head when she heard you and gave you a sweet smile as you crossed the room and handed her the latte. “Got this for you,” you said and your fingers brushed as you transferred the cup into her hand and you felt her fingers linger over yours a bit longer than necessary before she fully pulled the cup into her hand. “Oh! and…” you said, as you pulled out two snickerdoodles from your bag, handing one to her and the other to Spencer. You offered the tray of drinks toward Spencer and instructed him to take the cup closest to him. His face lit up and he gave you an excited thanks before grabbing his drink and setting it on the table next to him and pulling the cookie out of its bag and taking a bite.
Alex was watching you — no surveying you — throughout this interaction and couldn’t help herself but to smile, which you caught when you turned back towards her. She looked thoroughly enamoured with you and took a small sip as if to hide her smile and gave you a quiet “thank you” and a gentle squeeze to your arm before turning back to the board, making a comment to Spencer about something he had written down. You walked over to the conference table and joined Hotch next to the daunting stack of files he had waiting for you and passed him his muffin and received a thank you and rare smile in return. You took a sip of your latte and stole one more peak at Alex and noticed she was looking back at you with an appreciative, soft smile. You returned a smile before turning back to your files and concentrating on your work, albeit with a few butterflies in your stomach.
