MR. HOTCHNER — aaron hotchner
In which being a nanny for the Hotchners doesn’t only mean taking care of Jack, but also pleasing your boss
genre smut (18+) cw free use arrangement, nanny!reader, age gap (r is in 20s), post haley, mentions of jack, lowkey toxic relationship, soft to hard cock, thigh biting, some brat taming, praise, shower sex: oral (f receiving), p in v, use of showerhead, body painting wc 5k a/n i have been feeling #insecure about writing, but it's the same as when you haven't driven in a while and you're like "fuck i need to go on a ride otherwise i'll be too anxious to ever do it again", so here is me ignoring my inner demons yelling at me and posting anyway. oh and this is also my formal job application to be hotch’s free use nanny!!
You are a feminist, obviously. But beliefs tend to change in certain situations. To be precise, around certain people. The certain people in question being Aaron Hotchner.
You’d been babysitting throughout your entire college career—a job not only you, but all of your friends did. It’s no one’s plan to continue their college side job after getting a degree, but sometimes there isn’t much of a choice. You didn’t know what to do with your life after graduating, not sure how to navigate the struggles in your twenties while it seemed like everyone else had their shit together. A stable factor in your life was what you needed, and with capitalism taking over the world, the money was welcome too.
Nannying for the Hotchners was better than the families you babysat for in college. The term says it already; you were a nanny now, a live-in nanny at that. You had a home, a stable income, and took care of a shy but very sweet kid who grew more comfortable around you every day. If you closed your eyes, you could almost picture this being your life: the apartment you clean and cook warm meals in being yours, the mothers at Jack’s school seeing you as their equal and not just as “the nanny of”... And if you squint hard enough, you could imagine Aaron being your partner, the one who brought in the money so you could be a stay-at-home wife.
It’s not as delusional as it sounds, promise. Even though you and Aaron weren’t actually dating, at this point you might as well be. Because, honestly, can there really be any love involved with a man who always prioritizes his job? You lived in his house, took care of his kid, and besides that, there was only one more thing needed for the label of having a relationship: sex. And sex there was. Lots of it.
Okay, again, it might not be like the sex you’d see in a traditional relationship, but you lived in the 21st century, for Christ’s sake. It counted as something. At least to you.
It had been a couple of months since you started working for Mr. Hotchner when you had made the mutual decision to add an extra addition to your contract: a free use policy.
The decision didn’t come out of nowhere. The second you had met up with Aaron over coffee to see if you were suitable for the job, there was a tension that neither of you could deny. An undeniable attraction that lingered in the air when your eyes first met across the café. A spark that coursed through both of your veins when he held out his hand and cupped your smaller one in his. The way your heart did a jump when he pulled out a chair for you and how his body had the same reaction at seeing your dress ride up when you sat down, revealing the slightest sliver of skin.
This arrangement was destined to work. Aaron was stressed out and on the verge of breaking down if he didn’t get the relief of tension he so desperately needed after a long day of work. You needed to feel useful and worthy. Wanted by someone that in your eyes had it all.
One and one make two.
It sounded simple enough to you: being each other’s sex buddy, satisfying each other’s needs without overcomplicating it. But it wouldn’t be your life if the execution of this plan went that smoothly.
During a late night on the couch, several glasses of wine in, you tried making a move on Aaron. Your legs were intertwined, bundled up beneath a warm blanket. His fingers had found the bare skin of your calves, drawing slow circles as he listened to you recalling your day with Jack. His lips would curl ever so slightly when you mentioned Jack getting a compliment from his teacher or when you laughed as you repeated the pun you had learned from his son.
Still, the tiredness in his eyes remained, just like the dark circles beneath them that never seemed to fade.
You just wanted to help, make him feel comforted in a way you knew would work. He didn’t object when you scooted closer, turning your upper body to his to rest your head on his shoulder. He didn’t react when you used the tip of your nose to lightly graze his neck—apathetic to the small shiver of his shoulders and the trail of goosebumps that followed with your movement. He did not even flinch at the first couple of kisses that you pressed to his skin.
It was only when your hot breath fanned over the shell of his ear that he had stopped you.
“We need to set boundaries. This isn’t professional.”
You swallowed down your sigh, chirping out a high-pitched sure. Deep down you could’ve predicted this. Aaron was the type of man disciplined enough to print out another copy of your contract, all the while ignoring the hard-on that was uncomfortably pressing against the zipper of his pants.
It was admirable how he took the time to explain this “free use” arrangement to you. Despite you working with kids, you weren’t as patient. You were getting sex. That was all you needed to know. So you politely nodded along to his words as he scribbled down new information on the contract.
“I need you to sign here,” Aaron murmured, glancing up at your position on the couch.
With an inaudible huff, you stood and walked up to the wooden table he was bent over. Aaron took a step back, giving you the space to prop yourself in between the table and his frame to take a better look at the paper.
Your eyes flit over the rules:
No kissing
Minimal talking during the act (sounds of pleasure and code word allowed)
No talking about the act outside of the act
And most importantly, since he is the boss, he makes the calls on when you’ll be having sex. No arguments.
The second you had scribbled down your signature on the new document, Aaron had pressed his body to yours. Large arms wrapped around your waist, his palms finding a home on your lower stomach. The erection you had spotted earlier wasn’t gone, as it now poked against the soft curve of your ass.
A breathless sound escaped your mouth, quickly turning louder when Aaron’s short, dark hair brushed against your ear, placing open-mouthed, wet kisses on the place where your neck met your jaw.
You remembered how his hand slid into your jeans next, his fingers expertly slipping between the puffy folds of your pussy. His breathing heaved with every curl of his finger, and so did his movements as he rocked his hips into your back. He was visibly enjoying making you feel good. That much you could tell, but still you had thought that this was just a warm-up to get you ready for him. But when you came—with a loud cry he had to muffle with his other palm—he had simply left the room.
It had been like this for the next couple of times: Aaron worshipping your body with his mouth or hands but never asking for anything in return. Maybe it was a boundary he wasn’t ready to cross yet, or maybe watching you come undone was enough to satiate his needs and take away his stress. No matter his initial reasons, eventually he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, your endeavors more often turning into you sucking him off while he’s on a tense phone call or having a quickie in the kitchen before the workday would start. Yes, specifically in the kitchen. Or any location other than the bedroom, for that matter. Because although not on the list, having sex in bed was an unspoken form of intimacy you agreed on not having.
But all sexual acts aside, at the end of the day you were a nanny. One who had a job to do.
With a long stretch of your arms and a loud groan, you climbed out of bed this morning. The weekend—two days filled with cheering Jack on during his soccer matches and baking chocolate chip cookies—unfortunately has come to an end.
Your feet moved on autopilot, still in a dazed state from your sleep, until you found yourself in Aaron’s bedroom. It was only to enter the connected master’s bathroom. It was probably against the “rules”, but no one could deny that his bathroom was superior to the guest one: it had a large shower cabin made out of glass, a window where the perfect amount of sunlight beamed through in the mornings, and there were discreet spotlights hidden in the ceiling that illuminated the room in a romantic setting during late night showers.
You never showered here when Aaron was at home. But he had been on a case this entire weekend, giving you the opportunity to fully enjoy the luxuries of his apartment. You did suspect that he was aware of your sneaky endeavors. One day he had come out of the shower smelling exactly like the vanilla scent of your shampoo—the shampoo you had forgotten to take back to your room with you.
Turning on the shower made you realize why waking up early was worth it. Warm drops of water fell down your skin, the fog that came free wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You had exactly one hour until Jack would wake up, one hour to abuse Mr. Hotchner’s water bill and carry out your sacred full-body routine.
You were in the middle of rinsing the shampoo out of your hair when the creaking of the bathroom door sounded.
“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, blindly reaching for a towel to dry your eyes from the prickling foam that’s running down your face.
“Jack, what did I tell you about knocking when—“
Standing in front of you, barricaded only by the fogged shower doors, stood a man that—considering someone couldn’t grow twenty inches overnight—was not Jack.
The dark, short-cut hair and the black blazer that was thrown over the figure’s form gave him away. It was none other than your boss standing in front of you.
“Jack’s still asleep,” Aaron said matter of factly as he tugged the blazer off his arm before dropping it into the laundry basket.
A tinge of worry filled your chest, your mind running in a million different directions as it tried to come up with the most natural and fast explanation for you being here. “I didn’t want to wake him. Your room is at the other side of the apartment, and you weren’t home, so—“
He waves you off with a motion of his hand. “Good call, he needs his sleep.”
The fogged glass hides the deep breath of relief you're letting out at hearing his approval.
With the anxiety slipping away, you carefully reach out to wash the rest of your hair. You should turn around, face your back to him, and get the job done as fast as possible, but your boss had this essence that was too captivating to look away from. Squinting your eyes, you could make out the exhausted expression that lingered on Aaron’s face as he was busy untying his tie.
“Rough weekend?”
He gave a short snort. “As always.”
You nodded in understanding, although he couldn’t see. Another silence followed, causing you to finally look away. It didn’t take long for your curiosity to be piqued again, when the sound of a belt buckle unclasping and the soft thud of a shirt falling to the ground interrupted the steady stream of spilling water.
Turning your head, you could make out a vague tanned beige color where you previously saw the white of his dress shirt. The skin… the belt… Fuck, was this man getting naked?
“What are you doing?” You gulp when a strong hand reaches out for the shower’s doors.
“Joining you.”
Such a deadpan tone, like your boss joining you in your morning shower is the most normal thing to happen on earth. But this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? To feel like it was a mundane thing. For it to feel like you had an actual, healthy relationship with Aaron, that you weren’t essentially getting paid for your services.
“Okay,” you respond back with a newfound confidence.
You weren’t sure whether Aaron had waited on your confirmation, but the second the approval left your mouth, the doors were being opened.
There was no need to hide your body; it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before. The way he looked, however, was different. You’d only seen Aaron in a state where he was turned on, where he’d either been fantasizing about you all day at work—walking around with a painful boner all day—or where you’d been teasing him before you had greedily pulled his pants down. Now, however, he was still soft.
It wasn’t a sight you’ve often seen in your life, most men that you’d encountered feeling ashamed of the flaccid state; being a grower, or not thinking it looks sexy. So the fact that Aaron didn’t think twice of walking in showed a sense of trust and intimacy that made your stomach flutter. Besides, he had no reason to worry about his looks, because he looked good in this state. His balls were tight and roundly shaped, his length looked a bit shorter when soft but hung thick and heavy over said balls, and what drove you even wilder was the way his full tip twitched when his eyes had landed on you.
“Can I help you with that?” He asked, nodding down to the pink loofah in your hand.
You answered by taking a step back, giving him the space to fully enter the shower and close the doors behind him. He reached out his hand, and you had to blink a couple of times to make sure that this was really happening before handing him over the sponge.
Aaron accepts it. His other arm extends, almost brushing against yours. You inhale a deep breath, only to find out he was reaching for the shower gel behind you. With the use of his thumb, he clicks open the cap and squeezes a generous amount of liquid onto the loofah.
Aaron’s eyes flick over your body, as if deciding where to start first. It was difficult for him to imagine that he had you right where he wanted. That you were standing right in the spot where he had fisted himself for months to the thought of you. The way you looked, with your curves bare on display as drops of water fell down the side of your body, was beyond any visualization his own mind could’ve ever come up with.
Your nipples harden under the weight of his long, dark gaze, and it seems like the decision is made for him. Gently, he places the sponge on your collarbone, then moves it down in a slow stroke, following the curve of your breast. Your eyes close shut when the rough material catches onto your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core.
With curious eyes he takes in your reaction, then repeats the movement, moving the sponge back up. Your breast sways along, causing Aaron to swallow back a groan. In circular motions he moves on to your other breast. You hum in pleasure as he repeatedly caresses the pebbled bud while covering you in little bubbles of soap.
“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” he teases. “Is it that relaxing?”
The corners of your lips lift up, it’s not often that he breaks his own rules by talking to you. When you open your eyes, you notice a mischievous glimmer behind the stoic facade. It’s not just that that you notice: the proximity is undeniable. In the few seconds your eyes were shut, Aaron had moved closer. So close that his forehead was nearly touching yours. So close that you could almost count the curly hairs on his chest that have deepened in color because of the streaming water.
It was a mistake to look down.
Just an inch away from your stomach, heaved Aaron’s rock hard cock—that’s how fast the transformation can go. The large vein that you could dream at this point had made its appearance, and his bulbous head was shining in pre-cum. A thick drop hypnotizingly coating the slit.
“That’s what you do to me,” Aaron breathes out, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.
Your heart was beating a million miles an hour. He could kiss you right now, his lips impossibly close to yours as he wet them with his tongue. Instead, his mouth moved: “Up.”
Before you were able to squint your eyebrows in confusion, Aaron had his arms wrapped around your thighs, giving you a firm tug up, allowing you to jump like he’d asked you.
In a smooth—way too smooth—motion, you were thrown against the cold tiled wall, legs wrapped around his waist. Then he said it again. Up.
Like a toddler being lifted by their parents, Aaron had managed to climb you up so that your thighs were seated against each side of his face, legs dangling over his shoulders and the back of your calves planted firmly against his lower back.
“How the fuck…” you gasp out in belated shock.
“Don’t waste your words asking questions,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning over your spread pussy. Not like you’d be able to in the state he’s got you in. “Just enjoy yourself.”
With his hands pinning you against the wall, he used the sole power of his neck to dive in. No time was wasted as his wet tongue split open the folds of your pussy, immediately latching onto your swollen pearl—completely magnetized by it.
Your thighs clenched around his head, a sound in between a moan and a gasp escaping you as you threw your head back.
“Shit,” you hiss, the back of your head making contact with the cold surface.
Aaron groaned. You knew him well enough to know that it was a sound of disapproval, one of his dad-like “I told you to be careful” huffs. It didn’t have its designated effect, though; his muffled sound vibrates through your body, causing a wave of tingles to ignite your skin, your clit twitching against his tongue.
When you looked down, he was rolling his eyes at you. “Are you serious?” his face spoke. A giggle left your chest, you couldn’t take the stern attitude seriously.
Apparently, he did take it seriously. Aaron leaned back just enough to turn his head, and you missed the warmth of his mouth on you already. The light stubble that covered his jaw from being away on a case all weekend grazed along your inner thigh.
“More,” you whimpered, lifting your hips from the wall and driving your cunt into his face.
His eyes flick to yours for a split second. It was easy to miss the moment, but something behind his eyes shifted, reaching the max of dealing with this daring disobedience of yours. Your breath gets caught before it happens: his teeth sink into your thigh.
You sputter in his grasp, legs locking tighter around his waist. He didn’t bite hard enough to cut skin, but he was definitely leaving a mark. You were sure of that when, after the use of teeth, he wrapped his lips around the aching spot, sucking and not stopping despite your sharp nails digging into his back.
“Are you going to be good for me now?”
“Yes! Yes, I promise!”
Wrong answer. Another bite.
This time you just nod, not speaking any excessive words.
His teeth are replaced by his lips. He leaves two featherlight kisses on the bruised spot and moves back to your needy hole.
“Haven’t touched you in a minute, and you’re already dripping.”
Apparently the rule of not speaking doesn’t apply to Aaron Hotchner today. Not that you minded.
He licked the sweetness off your pussy, getting back into rhythm. Aaron’s lips sealed around your labia, gently suckling until the only sounds leaving your mouth were passionate moans.
At this point it was impossible to decipher whether the wet, sloppy noises came from your pussy or from the water that dripped out of the shower's head, warming the sides of your bodies.
You dug your nails lightly into his shoulders, grounding yourself from the accumulating heat that was starting to form low in your stomach.
With every up and down of his chin, Aaron’s nose would bump against your clit, making it twitch in desperation.
“Mmph,” you whine in response to his actions. I’m close! Aaron, please! Is what you wish you could scream out to him right now. Wishing you could beg for a fast release as the obscene sounds grew louder around you. But you couldn’t, not if you wanted to have any release at all. Forced to endure his sweet torture.
Aaron lifted his head, his mouth inches away from where you needed him most.
“Are you close?”
You obediently nod up and down, making sure he gets the memo.
“Will you cum if I touch her?”
You vehemently nod, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. Please, touch my clit, Aaron.
His hot breath ghosted over the swollen bud. “Hold on tight.”
You moved your fingers to wrap tightly in his locks, right on time as Aaron wraps your throbbing clit in between his lips. It was a combination of his satisfied moans and the slurping of his tongue that tipped you over the edge.
By the time Aaron had placed you back on the ground, you were wobbling on your legs, and your throat felt sore from the cries that had tumbled from your lips.
There wasn’t much time to recover, Aaron’s hands finding your waist, warm palms burning your skin as he turned you around. Your chest heaved from your orgasm, and your heart rate only sped up when his fingers made contact with the back of your arms. He guided his hands up until your fingers locked.
The bathroom tiles weren’t as cold as you expected them to be when you placed your palms against them, still heated by Aaron’s hands that were pressed against the same spot only a minute ago.
“Arch your back for me, sweetheart,” he instructed.
The nickname had your legs close to giving out. You clawed against the wall as you arched your back, ass raised high in the air, your cunt making contact with his poking cock as it pulsed from the sight of you.
An arm cups around your frame, holding you steady against him. With the other, he brushes the skin of your curves, mapping out his favorite spots.
Aaron’s thick fingers grip around the cheek of your ass, spreading you open and watching you in a mix of lust and adoration. “Fucking beautiful,” he murmured under his breath, as if he’d just witnessed the opening of an exotic flower.
You felt the weight of his solid chest against your back, dew drops falling from his skin and melting onto yours. Aaron bent slightly through his knees, enough to line himself up with your hole. Then he pushed in.
“That’s it, you can take it,” he encouraged as his throbbing length entered you inch by inch. “Almost there. You’re doing so good, taking all of me.”
“Feels good,” you whisper softly, not able to help the words from spilling out.
“I know, honey. Going to make you feel even better.”
With that, he started pumping himself in and out of you, creating a mark in your cervix that he kissed with every thrust of his hips. It was hot. So fucking hot. The steam that has built up in the shower cabin, the warm press of Aaron’s body, the fullness of him inside of you, the heaving of his breath in your ear… Too hot.
It’s like he heard you, because in the next moment he had you pushed up against the cool expanse of tile. A shiver ran through your body, a pleasant one, as your nipples peaked against it, stimulated by the continuous rubbing against the surface as Aaron moved your body up and down his cock.
A groan tore from his throat, the sound lightning through your body. “I missed this. Missed having you wrapped around me.”
The words were dirty, definitely, but it was the most affectionate thing he’s ever said to you. You could do this for the rest of your life: have him use you, be the reason he feels good, because there truly was nothing that made you feel more whole than to be praised by him.
You fluttered your pussy around him, enticing another deep groan from him.
“I’m getting close,” he hisses, and you nod. Give it to me, please.
Instead of speeding up the slapping of skin, he halts his movements, pulling a whiny no out of you.
With your back facing him, you don’t catch on to how he’s taking the shower head from its bar. Not even noticing the change of there being no more water falling down your body.
What you do take in, is him hungrily cupping your mound. And you are definitely aware when he uses two of his fingers to spread your lips. You swear you can feel his grin against your neck when the shower head magically appears in his hand, turned to a setting where a strong current of water spurts out, which he places directly above your clit.
A high-pitched cry leaves your mouth, making you wiggle in his grasp. If he didn’t have you pinned against his body, you would’ve fallen to the ground, your legs feeling like complete jelly.
“Hold yourself open for me.”
Regret followed later, when you realized that Aaron would pick up his pace again, all the while your clit was being overstimulated by the flow of water.
Your mouth was agape, moans and gasps and cries tumbling out—sometimes loud, sometimes utterly breathless. The last sound that left you was a scream of Aaron’s name as you came around his cock.
Your hand had left your pussy, reaching back to grip Aaron’s ass—the most accessible, and convenient place to hold—as your orgasm stuttered through you. You held him tightly, forcing a few more deep thrusts out of him before he pulled himself out.
“Knees. Now.”
The next moment passed in a blur. You fell to your knees, your legs squeaking against the cold, wet floor. You didn’t have the time to decide where to settle your eye: on his thick length that he held tightly in his fist, on his soft stomach and chest that heaved in anticipation of his orgasm, or on his face that was barely visible with the way he had his head thrown back, lip caught in between his teeth.
His hips twitched, and his muscled thighs clenched as a white-hot fountain erupted on you. His release fell down your body, covering you from your breasts to your stomach to your legs. He even made a mess of himself, his hand covered in his essence, spread all over his cock by the jerking of his hand.
“Jesus,” Aaron curses, using his clean hand to push his hair out of his face.
When his eyes fell back on you, he caught sight of you obediently sitting in front of him, using your thumb to flick a white stain off your breast before swirling your tongue around the digit.
He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his face. “You’ll be the death of me.”
You pick up the shower head that was thrown beside you on the ground, then place your hand around his thigh for leverage, wanting to clean him up.
Aaron sharply inhaled, body tensing when the stream hit his sensitive cock. “Don’t do that!”
“I’m sorry!” You quickly apologize in a stutter, then burst out in small laughter.
He shakes his head, opening his palm. “Hand it over to me.”
For a second you’re afraid he’s planning his revenge, but he turns the handle so that a gentle and even stream flows out of the head, then holds it above your body. Your personal waterfall.
With a hum, you wash yourself clean, almost sad to see the proof of his loving vanish from your body.
“Come here,” he whispers when you’re done and helps pull you up by your arm.
Surprisingly, he wraps a strong arm around you, the back of his fingers running across your cheek to put the wet strands of your hair back in place.
“I can bring Jack to school today.”
You raise your eyebrows. “Are you sure? You haven’t slept all night. I don’t mind—“
“Me neither,” he assures. “I know the work here is tiring too.”
It was. You knew nannying wasn’t an easy job, but nothing had prepared you for the days and nights spent alone while Aaron was catching killers in different states. It wasn’t easy being the main responsibility of a child in his most formative years, no matter how much gratification the work gives you.
“Okay,” you hum. “Thank you.”
“I have some free time when I get back.” His eyes search for yours as he speaks the words, awaiting your reply to the invitation. His eyes soften when they catch your small smile.
“Sounds good.”
He nods. “Good.”
