summary: stolen moments, or where you make focusing hard for hotch, so he does something about it.
pairings: aaron hotchner x bau!reader
warnings: smut, pinv, office shennanigans, making use of office hours, age gap.
The BAU bullpen hummed with its usual quiet rhythm. The team was gathered around the round table, reviewing case files and evidence, their conversations clipped and efficient. You sat with them, your expression composed, contributing observations when needed. To anyone watching, even a room full of elite profilers; you were simply Agent Y/L/N. Professional. Calm. Focused as always.
Aaron Hotchner sat at the head of the table, equally unreadable. His gaze occasionally flickered to you, but no one would notice; it was the same calm, assessing look he gave every member of his team. Not a single glance out of place.
Even Spencer, eyes always attuned to micro-expressions, detected nothing. Morgan leaned back in his chair, entirely focused on the case. JJ and Emily exchanged quiet notes. Rossi, as always, was studying the file in front of him with a subtle frown.
Everything appeared normal.
"Y/L/N," Hotch said suddenly, voice as level as ever. "My office."
You nodded once. "Yes, sir."
The team barely glanced up. Hotch calling agents into his office was routine, often mundane. Feedback, briefings, paperwork— none of it ever raised suspicion. Even from the most observant minds in the room.
You closed the door behind you with a soft click.
The moment it latched, Aaron was on you.
He grabbed your waist and spun you into him, lips crashing down against yours with a suppressed hunger. His hands roamed quickly, pulling your body flush against his.
"I can't work properly," he rasped low against your ear, voice thick with frustration. "You sit there looking like that- tight little blouse, those heels, and I can barely focus."
Your breath hitched, heart racing as his hands slid up your ribcage, thumbs brushing over the swell of your breasts through the thin fabric of your blouse. You tried to speak, but he silenced you with another kiss—hot, desperate, messy.
“Sit on the desk,” he ordered roughly.
You obeyed instantly, climbing onto his desk, legs parting as he stepped between them. His hands were everywhere—grabbing, squeezing, tugging at the fabric stretched tight across your chest. With one sharp yank, he unfastened the first few buttons, exposing the lace of your bra. He shoved the cups down, groaning at the sight of your tits spilling out.
“So fucking perfect,” he breathed, eyes dark, before lowering his head to capture one nipple in his mouth.
His tongue was hot and wet, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it hard into his mouth. His teeth grazed, then he pulled back just long enough to spit directly onto your flushed nipple, watching it drip down with a filthy smirk before sucking it back between his lips again.
You bit hard into your hand to stifle a moan, knuckles whitening.
"Aaron," you whispered, barely audible. "They're right outside-"
"Then stay quiet," he growled, voice low and sharp, his breath hot against your skin. “Be a good girl.”
His hands slid up your thighs, bunching your skirt around your hips, dragging your panties aside with a practiced urgency. Without any more warning, he pushed inside you in one smooth, rough thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
You gasped into your hand, body jerking against him.
"That's it," he hissed, gripping your hips as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into you. “Fuck- so tight for me. You always are.”
The desk creaked faintly beneath you, but neither of you cared. His pace was wild— deep, fast, merciless. His hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking your wet, spit-slick nipples as he drove into you over and over.
“Ah.... ahh-” you whimpered into your palm, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.
“Look at you,” Aaron rasped against your ear, voice nearly breaking with how deep his need ran. “You’re biting down so hard. You like this, don’t you?”
Your thighs trembled as your orgasm threatened to crest. His thrusts grew rougher, faster, as he felt you start to clamp down around him.
“Come for me. Right now.” His voice was gravel, tight and dangerous. “Do it, sweetheart.”
You broke apart under him, mouth open in a silent scream, your entire body shaking. Your release clamped around him, pulling him over the edge moments later. He buried himself deep with a guttural groan, his body tensing as he emptied into you.
The office fell back into a heavy silence, save for both of your ragged breathing.
Slowly, Aaron straightened your blouse, refastening the buttons carefully, smoothing your skirt back into place. His expression cooled back into that familiar unreadable mask, the one he wore every day.
By the time you opened the door and stepped back into the bullpen, no one even glanced up.
As if nothing had happened at all.
