INTELLECT TO INSOMNIA ft. SPENCER REID, READER
Warnings: Blow + handjob, overstimulation, praise, mentions of insomnia, Sub!Early Seasons!Spencer x Dom!Reader
There are very few challenges that Spencer cannot overcome; An IQ of 187, coupled with an eidetic memory, leaves very few obstacles that cannot be toppled through intellect and logic. Yet, the BAU's resident genius has come up on his third day of less than 2 hours of sleep.
Perhaps the most frustrating part of his problem is that his intelligence becomes utterly useless; All the genius in the world won't prevent him from needing one of the most essential keys to survival: Sleep. At the end of the day, Spencer remains painstakingly human.
Perhaps that raw humanity is what has led him here to this hotel room, sitting at the edge of your bed, crumbling under your soft hands; Whether he chooses to act on them or not, Spencer will always have desires, desires that cannot be abided by his hands alone, desires that you are more than happy to oblige in.
A slight jerk of your hands along his length rips a whimper from his swollen lips, aching from his biting down on them in an attempt to prevent the other members of the team learning of your shared endeavors. When you delicately wrap your lips around his leaking tip, Spencer all but drools at the sight.
You've always been a blessing to him: Indulging in his ramblings and statistics that made the rest of the team's ears bleed, holding him close when the thunder and lightning became too much to bear on his own, loyally remaining at his side and witnessing the brightest and darkest depths of his soul. It should come as no surprise to him that you, in all of your kindness and compassion, would happily come up with a solution for his insomnia; It doesn't come as a surprise that you would help, Spencer just found himself in awe that you would go to such lengths for his sake.
And so he sits, in (not very) quiet appreciation of your soft touches and unabashed worship of him, digging his nails into the sheets as you take all of him down your throat, your nose brushing the neatly trimmed hairs at his base. Being taken in so completely, so wholly, has Spencer throwing his head back in ecstasy, unabashedly whimpering pleas of your name. His vision flashes white, and any possible statistic, any equation, any semblance of proof that his IQ was even in double digits, goes flying out the window as his seed spurts down your throat.
Weakly, as his vision refocuses, and you have yet to ease up around his girth, Spencer begins to panic. You glance up at him, innocently, and lift your lips off of him with a soft pop. The sight and sensation makes Spencer shiver. And when your soft lips are replaced with your even softer hands, Spencer becomes truly afraid.
"I-It's too m-much," he stutters out, eyes wide with panic, bottom lip trembling. You only hum in return, continuing your pace along his shaft. As much as he'd like to tell you to slow down, that it's starting to hurt, his body betrays him, broken whimpers and pants falling from his lips; Curse his pathetic humanity, making him fall victim to your touch like this.
"You can take it, Pretty Boy," You reply, your nonchalance thinly veiling a genuine desire to comfort him. "You're being so good for me, you can take a little more." Spencer's desire to please being as strong as it is will clearly lead to his downfall; Then again, beneath the pain resulting from the sensitivity of his previous orgasm laid a plethora of euphoria, waiting to be lured out once again by your ministrations. With a hesitant nod of his head, he sits back and allows you to continue your work.
With much less effort than either of you would have expected, Spencer once again finds himself on the verge of cumming for the second time. Any hesitation Spencer may have held on to slips away the moment you press a chaste kiss right on the tip of his aching dick.
There isn't a single word in his vast vocabulary that can even come close to describing how Spencer feels. This is more than an orgasm, more than just euphoria; It's something much, much bigger. In what might just be the clearest thought he's ever had in his 24 years of living, Spencer has an epiphany. An epiphany about you, an epiphany about your future together. He can see it all in the most crystal clear resolution: getting down on one knee, slipping a ring onto your finger; Him and you, a big house, 3 kids, a dog or cat maybe-
"Sweetheart, are you ok? " His plans for the future are interrupted by your hesitant questioning, staring at up at him with big eyes, lacking the confidence you'd put on display for him just moments prior. It occurs to Spencer just then that smiling like an idiot and staring off into space likely portrays his psyche in a way that's less than flattering.
Admittedly goofy smile still plastered on his face, Spencer softly eases your concerns. "I'm ok, thank you." Satisified with the crease in your brow relaxing and the deep breath you let out, Spencer becomes blatantly aware of just how tired he is.
Thankfully, between you two, you haven't forgotten what you hoped to achieve when you unbuttoned his pants. Standing up, ignoring the pain in your knees from how long you remained in one position, you grab a washcloth, gently wiping the evidence of your actions off of his stomach. Knowing his sweater vest, corduroy pants, and converse are less than preferable for sleeping in, you go to the other room, grabbing him a pair of pajamas out of his still-packed suitcase. What you find when you come back into the bedroom, however, is that Spencer pays no mind to his current attire, already conked out on the bed.
With a small smile, you remove his glasses off of his sleeping face, and cuddle yourself in against him.
The team isn't oblivious to the obvious change in Spencer's state the next morning.
"Looks like Pretty Boy finally got some sleep last night," Morgan jokes, nudging Spencer's shoulder as they drink their morning coffee. Elle, hearing the two conversating, comes over as well, taking a break from reading over files on the most recent victims of the team's current case.
"So, what'd you do to finally get some shut-eye?"' Elle questions. It's by no means an unreasonable question; He hadn't slept for 2 days prior to last night, and it would take something miraculous to finally get him to fall asleep. While he certainly finds you miraculous, your relationship has been a private matter, and Spencer would prefer to keep it that way. "I had some help from a friend," He responds with a small smile. The connotations this brings on would be undeniable if it wasn't Spencer. The team, assuming the 'friend' in question made him some tea or got him some form of supplements, move on with the case, leaving Spencer in peace.
Spencer isn't ashamed of you, but he thinks that for now, he'll keep you, and your wonderful methods of curing insomnia, a secret for now.
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