A Bed Of Comfort
David Rossi X BAU!AFAB!Reader
Summary: Keeping the biggest secret of your life didn’t seem so hard, especially after so many years of living in a neglected, loveless marriage that made you hate everything about yourself… so why is it when you’re forced to spend the night in a run-down house, across the street from an accused killer with your much older co-worker; all of your walls and preservations suddenly crumble under his gentle words and soft touches?
Warning: Divorce, Reader has a child mentioned in the story, reader is insecure about her body, can be read as an Age Gap Romance (reader is in her 20s or older and this can be any age David seeing as his age in the show isn’t really given? But I’m putting him in his late 40s), Reader is described to have stretch marks from child birth and hair long enough to shield her face if she looks down, crying, shared bed, hickies, heavy praise, fingering(F receiving), finger licking, PinV sex, un/protected (David has a vasectomy), cream pie. The usual criminal minds gore, unalive women, blood and missing body parts, Morgan getting testy (As always let me know if there is anything I missed 💜)
A/N: I posted the teaser to this 6 months ago and then… idk… my editing brain left on vacation and just returned three weeks ago. Sorry! Also if you are interested HERE is the master link to all of my stories!!
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“I hate this. It isn’t fair.” There was no reason to hide your distaste as you dropped into the frigid metal chair. “I know for a fact that somehow Spencer cheated at the straw pull. Had to have been some boy-wonder mind-fuckery.” You waved your fork around, emphasizing before stabbing the price of plastic into the box of noodles you had been picking at. You scanned over the various monitors scattered across the table, and just as they had been the last several hours, the screens showed nothing aside from a quiet driveway and backyard.
David snorts from beside you, titling his sweet and sour chicken towards you in quiet solidarity. “I will NOT argue with you on that. There’s a reason the kid isn’t allowed in Vegas anymore.”
When Hotch had suggested the stakeout back at the police department, you had already started shaking your head, pushing your chair back to leave, but JJ and Printess had beaten you to the exit.
The draw had come down to who would be in the van at night, and who would surveil from the house across the street.
You and David drew the house.
Animosity is written across your face as you glance around the dilapidated, bitterly cold structure. To call it a house was an overstatement. Most of the windows in the living room are boarded up, but their missing windowpanes have the small space heater struggling to overcome the winter breeze that whistles in.
Though the outside of the two-story home had been kept relatively nice for any unsuspecting buyers, the inside had been trashed. No doubt by various squatters looking for shelter over the years in this poverty-stricken area of downtown Chicago. Countless numbers of graffiti overlap one another on the faded blue, crumbling walls, from swastikas to hearts with initials and dates underneath them, but your eyes keep roaming to an uncomfortably realistic painting of Satan that stares back from the wall just opposite your seat.
“Why this house though? This place is undoubtedly haunted. Just look around. Forensics would have a field day in here.”
Your groaning pulls another chuckle from David, who squints at the screen closest to him as a car drives by. “Because the haunted house was as close as we could get; trust me when I say I would rather be staying at the Hilton.”
He is right, of course, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to complain. Your chair suddenly wobbles, and you stiffen, looking down expecting to see a monster rat, only to see the toe of David’s shoe pressed against the leg. He smiles at your glare, making your lips twitch up despite yourself.
“Ah, come on. Lighten up a little. At least we don’t have to spend the night in a tiny little van.” Now he has a valid argument.
With an exaggerated sigh, you nod your head, the satellite radio crackling with interference. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Just remind me to get an exorcism when we leave.” You say with a nod towards the wall across from you.
“Tesoro, I’m Catholic. I have a priest on speed dial.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
The clock slowly ticks on, the day rolling into evening, when Morgan finally calls David, giving you the all-clear. The two of you heave sighs of relief, before moving into shutting down all of the equipment to maintain the house’s vacant facade.
The little melodic chirp of your phone alerts you to a text message, and when you pull your phone from your pocket, a smile lights up your face.
“Look.” Your voice holds a sweet coo when you turn your phone for David to see the picture of your four-year-old daughter, Amelia, curled up asleep in her bed at your mother’s.
When he glances from the phone to your face, he smiles at the motherly love that shines in your eyes. “More and more, she grows to look just like her mother.”
A soft, rosy blush stains your cheeks as your smile widens, turning away to type out a reply, “Thank you.”
“How are Amelia and Brain doing?”
“Oh gosh, she’s great. Just started Pre-K, and all of the social interaction is just making her blossom. Where we live, there aren’t many children, so it’s great she can finally start to make friends.”
David’s smile is found as he watches you, noting the way your eyes crinkle at the corners and the lines that bracket your mouth with your smile as you tap away at your phone. “I’m sure she is quite the social butterfly.” You nod with a hum. “And Brian?”
Your fingers falter over the keys, a look of dread passing over your features. David’s eyebrows rise at the slip of your emotions. “Oh. He-He’s fine, on a business trip.” You internally scold yourself at how clipped and robotic your response sounds.
Outside of your immediate family, you hadn’t told a soul of your sudden divorce, fearing how your coworkers and close friends would react. You didn’t want to be coddled or pitied over the situation, despite the pain that dwells in your chest from the moment you saw the Manila folder laid out on your dark granite countertop. The onslaught of emotion makes your eyes sting, the screen in your hands steadily growing more blurry as the silence stretches on. David steps closer with a growing level of concern, “Y/n?” He tilts your head up, baring you from the current of hair keeping your face hidden, and his coffee-brown eyes are soft but assessing.
In this moment, you feel small under his gaze, but not in the same sense that Brian did. With Brian, there was a constant stream of insults and trivialization of your accomplishments at work; how you couldn’t do enough, be enough, never at your best for him, only at your job.
But beside David?
You feel small in the way that David is an ever-larger presence, there to keep you guarded from whatever harm is lurking.
And for as silly as it sounds, maybe that’s why your lower lip begins to tremble and the tears you’ve kept held back begin to well in your eyes, the fat droplets ruining your perfectly placed mascara.
“Sweetheart…”
“Brian and I got a divorce.” The words are broken on your tongue, and the shock on David’s face could have been comical had it been in any other situation. He can’t find his words; instead, he pulls you into his chest, letting you sag against him as your body shudders with a sob. One arm cradles your shoulders as he passes a large palm down your hair, whispering little phrases in Italian as you cling to the front of his light blue button-down shirt with one hand.
“Il Tesoro… What happened?” He leans back slightly, rubbing your shoulders, trying to get a peek at your face.
You sniffle, trying to rein in your emotions as you dash away tears, dark smudges staining your fingertips and the pocket of his nice shirt, and you cringe. “Me… I-I happened. Brian no longer finds me attractive.” You keep your gaze glued to the row of turtle-shell-colored buttons, afraid to meet David’s gaze. “Maybe… It could be because I’ve struggled to lose the weight from my pregnancy, or-or I’m not home enough because of work.” When you finally dare to look David in the eye, the look of pity is painful. Your admission feels like you’re ripping off a Band-Aid that has adhered to your skin for too long. “Brian, he said when he looks at me, all he feels… is disgust. We-I tried everything, everything to fix what we had, but with Amelia, my entire life shifted, and my focus was her. Maybe that makes me a bad person. I know I’m the cause of it all, and I should have done more. I just-.”
“Woah, woah, woah.” David cups your face, warming your cool cheeks and brushing away the tracks of tears with his thumbs. “Dolcezza… You can’t possibly believe you’re the one at fault here?” His eyebrows pinch as you hesitate to give your answer, his question raising doubts.
“I let myself go, David. I’m no longer who he fell in love with; my body has changed from that skinny-“
David scoffs, his hands slipping down to rest on the slope of your neck. “What I’m hearing is the abuse your husband has drilled into your head. Not your words. Not your perspective of things. How long have you been living with this?”
He can’t think of a time where you hadn’t been yourself, the easygoing, chipper, determined woman who compliments the team so perfectly. He can only surmise that all of this had to have happened recently.
You murmur your answer, eyes cast down like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar, and when he asks again, you suck in a tight breath, fighting through the humiliation.
“Three years… the divorce was finalized a month ago.” Saying it out loud to someone other than your family makes you feel sick to your stomach, the hole in your chest threatening to tear through your heart, forcing more tears over your lashes. You slacken your grip on his shirt with the intention of pulling away, like you can put distance between yourself and the truth, but David isn’t letting you go so easily.
“Three years? Three? And you haven’t talked to anyone about this? Y/n…” The disbelief in his voice is laced with something else, something almost chastising, and it makes your heart squeeze in pain.
“I have my mom and dad, they have helped me… I’m seeing a therapist… David, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to spill all of this on you and make it your problem.” You grip his wrists and, with a tug, free yourself from his hold. Making a beeline for the back bedroom of the house, you pray you can hold it together long enough to make it to the bathroom before you break down all over again.
An assaulting array of emotions plagued him as he watched you slip through the door. Three years, three years of you seemingly living a picturesque life, and no one noticed otherwise. Worse yet he never noticed.
What more was there? What all had Brian drilled into your mind? What damage had been done?
You didn’t deserve to live with that, you didn’t deserve to wake up every day feeling unloved and unwanted. Especially when David knew he was one of many men who found you to be the most attractive thing in the world.
His spine stiffened at the thought as it took root, then his long legs carried him down the hall.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You tip back your water bottle, swishing the water in your mouth before spitting the leftover toothpaste into the sink. Daring a glance at your reflection in the aged, yellow mirror, you cringe. The loud humming fluorescent lights above do nothing to help with your blotchy complexion or red-rimmed eyes, and you sigh with defeat.
This isn’t how you imagined anyone finding out, and you certainly didn’t imagine crying your eyes out against David’s chest. You thought you would have time to work through your emotions, to get back on your feet with Amelia, and have a stiff upper lip if anyone were to ask what had happened.
Now it’s all washed down the drain, and you groan at the thought of your mascara never washing out of David’s shirt.
With one last nasty glare at yourself, you yank the door open with a little more force than necessary, stopping short when you come face to face with David’s back. He had changed while you were gone, into a snug black t-shirt with a pair of matching sweatpants.
He turns at the sound of the squealing hinges, his eyes roaming from your face to your toes and back again. You’re dressed similarly, prepared for the cold night ahead except for the BAU sweatshirt that looks like it fits Morgan better than you.
You force a smile, but keep your eyes low, staring at the large air mattress he’s throwing a blanket over. “That looks comfy.” You move around him to get to your cot, the metal springs protesting as you sit down.
“It better be for the price I paid for it.” He responds, side-eyeing your cot. “And it better be more comfortable than that.”
You laugh lightly, pulling your thick comforter from its duffle bag. “It’s old, but it’s reliable and surprisingly not that bad.” The ties groan as if in protest to your statement as you lay back, tucking yourself in for the night.
David hums, turning and disappearing into the restroom. Rolling onto your side, facing his bed, you chew at your bottom lip, feeling deflated and overwhelmed with the chorus of thoughts in your mind.
What does David think of you now?
How much longer can you keep this a secret?
How are you going to handle telling the rest of the team?
You gasp around a painful twist in your chest, burying yourself face into your pillow in hopes of steering off the new onslaught of tears. You don’t want to cry anymore, you don’t want to feel another emotion. You don’t -
“Talk to me.”
You nearly jump out of your skin, looking up to find David sitting on the edge of his bed with worry written on his tan face. He spreads his hands, stammering a little before he begins to speak. “You know, no one else knows more about divorce than I do.” His attempt at humor falls flat, your lower lip jutting out. “All I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to bottle this up. You don’t need to hide it all away; talk about it, let it out. I’m certainly not going to judge you.”
You take a moment, tucking your hands under your head, searching his open face. “I just… feel like I’ve brought this on myself…” The warm feeling of embarrassment leaches into your cheeks. “Is it okay if I share something personal with you?”
“Of course.”
“I had a hard time adjusting after having Amelia. Between being a new mom, worrying about coming back to work, and trying to be a good wife, I just… changed?” You swallow thickly, but manage to keep your eyes on David’s despite tears pooling in your lashes. “Brian… obviously wanted us to become physically intimate again, but it felt so… so forced. I didn’t want to, but he has needs and I’m… I needed to fulfill those. I tried, but when things didn’t go… as they should have, he became resentful and angry with me. I couldn’t do anything to appease him.”
David’s face crumbles like your lungs, tears slipping down the bridge of your nose and splattering on your pillow.
“He started to get mean, Dav… commenting on my body, how the house looked, how I wasn’t good at anything. He belittled my entire life in the span of a year, and I just… checked out. I moved into Amelia’s room, and that’s where I lived until he handed me the papers. She and I now live in my mom’s apartment basement, and… I’m so lost, David.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, hiccuping slightly, and roll onto your back. Your hands and body tremble, and another soft sob leaves your scratchy throat when you feel David’s fingers comb through your hair. He kneels beside your bed, gripping one hand with his as he keeps steadily brushing your hair back. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low timber, the noise reverberating in his chest.
“You didn’t cause this. The person to blame here is Brian. Not you. The fact that he couldn’t comprehend what you’d been through, how your body and mind have changed, shows more of his character than yours, sweetheart. You are doing a thousand jobs at once compared to him; you are more than a mother or an FBI agent, Y/n. You are what people have worshiped and held in high regard for years, a warrior, a caregiver, a lifeline, a woman whose love is endless. He is a fool. And you deserve better than what he has put you through, my dear.”
The breath you let out is stuttering, something hard and constricting in your chest cracking ever so slightly at David’s speech. When you drop your hand away, he is smiling at you tenderly. “Thank you.” You mouth the words, untrusting of your own voice, and he says nothing more. Instead, he leans over and presses a warm kiss to your forehead.
*~*~*~*~*~*
You wake with a jolt, violent tremors seizing your body, sending you into panic. “Wh-what the h-hell?” You whisper through chattering teeth, sitting up and wrapping your blanket fully around yourself as you squint into the quiet darkness.
“The power went out, and the generator isn’t working.” Comes David’s answer from across the room. As your eyes adjust, you can start to make out his form crouched by the generator, hearing him shake it and the gas slosh around inside the tank.
“F-fuck,” You hiss, scrambling to reach your duffle under the bed. You pull out a stack of hand warmers, “Here.” You toss a few to David as he walks over. “These will help. Throw them in the foot of your bed.”
David catches the packs, then turns them over in his hands. He looks at you as you mutter curses under your breath, shaking the warmers to activate them, bundled in your blanket on a nylon strip of bedding. Then he looks at his bed. More room, more blankets, has to be more comfortable despite your reassurance earlier…
“Get in my bed.”
“…what?”
The moon is shining through the window now as the clouds move, illuminating the look of disbelief you give him.
“Neither of us want to be miserable or get sick. Grab your blanket and we can keep each other warm.”
You stutter, your brain not quite catching up to what he’s saying before you shake your head slowly. “That’s… inappropriate. What if we get caught?”
His eyes widen a bit, laughing before he can stop himself. “Sweetheart, you’re acting like your boyfriend is sneaking over while your parents are just downstairs.” Embarrassment makes your skin tingle and warm. “I doubt anyone would say a word about trying to get through the night the best way that we can.” He’s absolutely right, and you know he is, but it doesn’t stop the hesitant look on your features. Walking over, David extends his hand, palm up. “I’ll get up extra early, so that way no one sees me sneaking out. Okay, Dolcezza?”
That comment earns a small chuckle, and shyly you smile with a nod, giving him your hand. He pulls you to your feet and helps spread your blanket on top of his, abandoning the hand warmers altogether. Both of you crawl under the covers, the air mattress dips and gives with your combined weight.
Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you scoot as close to the edge as you dare, despite the abundance of room. David watches you with amusement as you shuffle and fidget before he can’t take it anymore. His arm circles your waist, and with ease, he drags you into the center of the bed, making you squeal with shock. The mattress gives under your combined weight, forcing the two of you closer.
“Easy, sweetheart.” He whispers, tucking your head under his chin as he gives your hip a squeeze. You stare at the frost-tinted window like a deer in headlights, unable to focus on anything except for every inch of his body that touches yours. From the top of your head to the bottom of your feet resting against his shins, it makes a sharp ache form in the center of your chest that spreads. First to your lungs making it impossible to breathe, then next to your limbs, your body stiffening on reflex; and then when his hand slips from your hip to delve under your sweater you fear you’ll completely shatter.
His palm flattens over your stomach, the thin t-shirt you’re wearing hardly a barrier against his warmth, and instinctively you suck in your gut. The cruel words of your ex-husband circle around your mind like a vice,squeezing out every insecurity. You try to curl into yourself, but there is nowhere to go as his fingers twist into your shirt, pulling it up so he can trace lazy patterns on your soft skin.
“Don’t.” David brings his lips to your ear, warm breath ghosting over your chilled skin. “Don’t hide from me, every inch of you…” He flattens his palm over your lower abdomen, over the skin that has stretched, morphed, and will never be the same again. “Is beautiful. Every scar, every imperfection, every dip and hollow. All of it, all of you.”
The beginnings of a shaky sob leave your lips, one hand curling around his arm as the other grips the blanket, pulling it closer to your chest. “D-David… I…” You don’t know what to say, knowing he can feel every ridge and indent of your stretch marks, the same stretch marks that your husband had sneered at and ridiculed with relentless disdain. The calluses on his fingertips are a shock to your sensitive nerves, as you don’t remember the last time another person had touched you like this. So intimately, so cherishingly.
“You deserve to know this. To know how alluring you are, just how desirable you are.” His words sail down your spine where they gather, and settle heavily, igniting something primal and warm between your thighs. Your lashes flutter, head pressing back against his shoulders as his finger dare to dip just under the scrunched elastic of your sweatpants, pulling the slightest moan from your lips. “Can I show you, Tesoro… Hmm?”
The next shiver that rolls down your spine is no longer from the cold, it’s driven entirely from the sudden desire that is making you squeeze your legs together. It feels so foreign, after years of sexual solitude, it’s almost too much, too overwhelming. But your emotions and thoughts are wild in your brain and you can’t help the pain slicing through your chest. After so long…
“David… You don’t have to do this… I don’t want you to feel like you have to pity me, or-or make me feel better just because of what happened with Brian…” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore the desperate plea of your body begging for more, begging for a crumb of affection you have been denied for so long.
David is silent for a moment before suddenly pulling away. Your heart plummets into your stomach one moment and then shoots into your throat the next when David is suddenly rolling you onto your back. Everything is so fast, and before you know it, he is seated between your legs, hands planted on the mattress by your head, caging you in. The moonlight is just enough for you to see the seriousness in his eyes, the hard set of his jaw, and furrow of his brow.
“Don’t confuse my desire for you with pity. I have wanted you from the moment you first walked into my office; how many years ago? And I knew I was in deep when you flounced in with another man, and all I felt in my chest was jealousy and envy because I wanted that to be me.” His admission makes your heart clench, your eyes widening in surprise. “Maybe I am a selfish man for acting on these impulses, especially after you have been so vulnerable with me, but I can’t sit here and let you stew in these insecurities one man has instilled inside you. Not when I know I can show you how truly ravishing, wanted, and loved you are.”
He emphasizes his words with a slow roll of his hips, and you choke on your next breath, feeling the evidence of his want for you through his sweats. Tentatively, you reach up, gripping his shoulders, focus torn between the way his eyes darken and the slow smile curving his lips as he closes the distance between you. “I… I want…” You’re lost for words, your heart beating so hard against your ribs that you are certain David can hear the chaotic rhythm.
Giving you plenty of time to pull away, David leans in, brushing his lips across yours in a ghost of a kiss; and when you don’t move, he seals his lips over yours. A deep, shuddering breath rushes from you, and you sink into his easy rhythm. His kiss is passionate, sensual, and lulling you into complete oblivion.
Shifting, you run your fingers into the trim, greying hair at the base of his skull, pulling him closer with a simpering whimper. His response is a deep groan that vibrates through his body into yours, losing himself as he rocks his hips against yours. Just under the tingling mint of your toothpaste, he can taste something sweeter, something truly you, and he aims to discover it as he sweeps his tongue into the wet cavern of your mouth.
With a moan, your legs hick higher, thighs squeezing his hips as David’s hand cups your cheek. His thumb sweeps a few stray hairs from your cheek before hooking under your chin and pressing your head back. The kiss breaks with ragged gasps as he finds your jaw. The goatee he sports bristles at your skin, scratching softly before he soothes the sting with warm, opened-mouth kisses. Your grip tightens, little gasps and moans heaving into the air, and David nips at your jaw.
“Louder… Let me hear you, bella.” It isn’t a request; his hips bucking against yours, sliding his erection across your heated mound just the right way, forcing a desperate keen from your lips. You guide his head to the spot just below your ear, and he chuckles before sucking and nipping heavily. “Ah… Da-David… yes…” In the back of your mind, you know he’s leaving marks, that by the end of the night, your skin will be marred with the evidence of what you two have done, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
“There she is.” He purrs, a shiver skirting up his spine when he feels your hands pressing down his back, gripping him tighter, holding him closer; like you can’t get enough, like you’re begging for more, and he is more than happy to give. “I’m going to take care of you. Will you let me, Mia Mor?”
The want to be cherished, the need to be loved like you once had been overwhelms you; tears pricking your eyes and you nod. “Please… Please, David.” Leaning up, David catches your gaze, features softening before brushing a kiss across your forehead; a stark contrast to the fire burning between your bodies.
“I’ve got you.” Shifting his weight, he skims his hand down your side before dipping below your waistband, a hiss escaping through his teeth when his fingers skim over your bare, drenched pussy. “Fuck… you’ve been so needy, just want to be shown some love, hmm?”
You can hardly nod, breath caught in your chest, too focused on the way he teasingly dips between your lips, dragging your wetness up to circle your clit. Hips bucking, a desperate, whiny noise falls from your lips, eyes fluttering closed as he starts drawing different patterns. He takes his time, finding what draws out the most noise as possible; which speed has you simpering and begging, fine-tuning to the musical sounds of your pleasure.
His voice drops to a raw growl as he dips his fingers into your entrance. “Going to get you nice and ready for me, gatina… Thaaaat’s it.” Your cunt is already fluttering with the promise of fulfillment from his shallow thrust, taking his time to stretch you open on his thick digits, palm pressing against your swollen clit.
“N-Need… fuck, I need more., please.”
David smiles to himself with a wolfish grin, thrusting his fingers fully into your wet heat, setting a deep, languid pace. Warmth flashes through your body, jaw hanging open, clawing at his shirt as your sensitive walls squeeze around his fingers. Your orgasm is building fast between your hips, the pressure deliriously intense, a feeling you don’t want to end as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts.
He works you up, up, up, paying special attention to the spot on your neck with tongue and teeth when he feels your pussy begin to flutter and hears your cries growing louder. He curls his fingers, almost instantly finding that gummy spot on the inside of your walls, and it takes nothing more than that. You cum with a squeal, nails digging into his t-shirt, face pressed against his hair as your arousal drips down his fingers with each wave of ecstasy.
“David, David, David~” You chant his name like a prayer, a plea, a word of salvation.
He kisses you then, consuming your cries of pleasure as he works you through your orgasm until the rhythmic flutter of your walls dies down to the occasional twitch of your hips.
“Look at me,” and when you finally manage to open your eyes, you watch David suck his fingers into his mouth, tasting you on his skin. He lets out a low groan, the flavor of your arousal thick and heady on his tongue and yet sweeter than his favorite wine.
“Fuck…” He growls. “I’m going to need more of you. I’m going to lay you out on my dining room table and feast between your legs. Amore miso bellissimo.” His words leave you gasping for breath, the promise of more after this night sending a pang of anticipation through your body that has your cunt feeling devastatingly empty. “Let’s take these off, yeah?”
Tongue too heavy to speak, all you can offer is a nod before you release his shirt so he can sit back on his haunches. He curls his fingers into your waistband, and when you lift your hips, he pulls them down completely. You’re focused on his face as his eyes roam over the newly exposed flesh. David grips your knees, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he meets your gaze and whispers with intense honesty, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
He wishes, now more than ever, that he wasn’t seeing your body for the first time under the moon’s hazy glow in a run-down house on top of an air mattress. No, in his mind, you need to be laid out on top of the silk sheets of his king-sized bed, bathed in the orange glow of candles as he worships you the way you deserve.
Slowly, keeping his gaze locked on your face for any sign of hesitation, David hooks his thumbs into his waistband. He pushes his pants and boxer down just enough to free his cock, and a whimper leaves your throat at the sight of it, leaking and flush, bobbing between his thighs.
Your cunt pulses, saliva filling your mouth. “I… I want you…” You plead, voice husky, legs falling apart in invitation.
Groaning, David closes his eyes for a moment before gripping your thighs, fingers indenting the flesh as he drags you closer, forcing your hips up. “You can have me, every inch of me, Bambina.”
David holds his breath as he grips his cock, pumping it once, twice, before sliding the weeping tip through your soaked lips. His skin is incredibly hot against yours, especially when he glides the tip up, bumping against your clit before sliding back down to catch against your entrance.
Your breath grows short and ragged, a vine of anxiety and excitement twisting through your lungs. Pausing, David searches your face, a soft look dampening the burning lust in his eyes when he sees the pinch in your brows. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, leaning over you, elbows bracketing your shoulders, a hand cupping your cheek, grounding you as he finally pushes in. Your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling up, and David groans, his thick cock stretching your warm, wet walls; the exquisite heat of your body engulfing him.
“Ahh…ahh…” There’s a burning pain warring with the pleasure of being stuffed so full the further he sinks into you. Tears prick your eyes, your hazy, lust-laden gaze mirroring David’s as he snaps his hips forward, hilting himself fully inside you. “Oh fuck-!” You gasp, head lifting off of the pillows, mouth hanging open in surprise.
David grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses his forehead against yours. Sweat is already building on his skin, his hand fisting the covers as he tries to keep the strings of his self-control from unraveling. “CosÍ stretto, cosÍ bagnato…” he sucks in a breath, “so tight, so fucking wet, baby…”
A smile creeps up your lips, eyes fluttering as his thumb passes over your blushing cheek. “Looks… Looks like I need to brush up on my Italian.” Your joke resolves into a whimper when his cock twitches in your depths.
A breathy laugh falls from David’s lips as he shakes his head slowly, leaning back slightly to watch your face as he whispers, “I’ll teach you, Gatina.” He pulls out, your whimper tuning into a moan, feeling every ridge and bump of his cock, “I have a lot I need to teach you.” Then he presses back in.
You hide your face against his neck, running your hands up his arms as David sets a slow, steady pace, hip rising to meet him thrust for thrust. His cock presses into that spot deep inside your sensitive walls, making your thighs twitch, locking your legs around his hips.
“Oh… oh fuck, David…” You sink your fingers into his hair, desperate to pull him closer, and he complies by slipping an arm under your shoulders, drawing your chest to his and forcing himself that much deeper with each roll of his hips.
“I’m right here, just feel, let go, and just feel me.” You wish there were fewer layers between you as your hand slides down the back of his shirt, palm gliding over his shoulders where sweat has started to gather. A delirious heat is pulsing through your veins, growing into an inferno in your lower belly with each pass of his cock. You begin to squirm, loud moans falling from your lips as you rake your nails up his spine, causing David to shiver.
“More… ah- please more.” The desperate plea in your voice as you buck your hips has David tsking against your ear.
He leans back, cock throbbing at the sight of your pinched brow and glossy eyes, tears forming in your waterline. Slowly he rubs his thumb over the edge of your kiss-swollen lip as he whispers. “I’m going to take my time with you, enjoy every moment of your sweet pussy squeezing my cock until you come undone completely.”
His words have you dissolving into whimpers, barely able to keep your eyes open as he starts back at his languid, deep pace. “Look at you. All of you. So beautiful.” He slips his hand down your side, following the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hip before wrapping around the bend of your knee. He lifts your leg, spreading you open, allowing himself to enter you at an entirely new angle.
“S-so good… f-fuck feels so good.” You pant, eyes rolling up. You’re being eaten alive by the fire growing in your body, sweat coating your skin below your shirt, slick between your bodies where you meet with each thrust. You start to squirm at the feeling of it all, eyes pinched shut, thighs stiffening, and back beginning to leave the bed as that familiar, electric pressure begins to build, and build, and build.
David can feel your walls start to flutter. A satisfied smile, almost smug, curls his lips, and he squeezes your eyes to catch your attention. “Gonna cum, baby?” He cooes, the deep baritone reverberating through your body, making that pressure nearly crescendo as you nod. “Let go, let me feel you wet my cock.” His hand falls from your thigh to slowly stroke your clit.
A sharp gasp fills your mouth. Your hips burn from the angle, the pressure nearing a breaking point as you cry for him. His grip tightens around your shoulders, and with a groan, he kisses you deeply, swallowing your cries as you snap. Your orgasm that had been creeping up slowly suddenly consumes you like a strike of lightning. You break the kiss with a silent scream, tears squeezing out of your eyes and falling down your temples as the intensity of your pleasure peaks, and you crash.
“Fuck, fuck, baby, yes… that’s it, that’s it, Tesoro.” He husks, his thrusts becoming harder, faster; steadily growing more powerful.
“Dav…Dav…” You babble through tears, overstimulation setting in as he drills into you. “S’too much…”
He hushes you softly, slipping his arm free to brace himself over you, cupping your face. “I know-shit- I know. But I’m close, amore mio.”
There’s a flash of panic in your eyes, and you shake your head slightly. “M’not on the pill.”
David laughs huskily, sweat beading and dripping down his nose as he grinds his hips against yours. “Sweetheart, you don’t go through this many marriages without a prenup and a vasectomy.” Before you can truly comprehend what he is saying, he pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back into you, spearing you open again and again, making you squeal.
Lower back leaving the bed, thighs locked around his hips and nails indenting his back, all you can do is hold on as David chases his high. His grip on the sheets tightens, moans and grunts leaving his lips as his eyebrows draw together and a muscle ticks in his jaw. One, two, three more harsh thrusts and David stills, a low groan filling the space between you as his cock pulses and paints your walls with warm cum. You swallow against your dry throat, threading your fingers through his hair as he settles against you, head resting on your chest as you both cling to each other, catching your breath.
After several minutes, David eases out of you with a soft hiss, rolling onto his side of the bed, making you bounce slightly with a breathless laugh. Your entire body feels soar and used in the most delicious of ways, mind ditsy and quiet as your body decompresses and exhaustion crowds in. David draws you into him, peppering your neck with kisses as he tucks you back into his chest like before, whispering little phrases in Italian in your ear as you drift off.
*~*~*~*~*~*
There’s a warmth of a palm, sliding up and down the planes of your back, pulling you from your sleep gently before it grips your shoulder, shaking slightly. “Y/n, we need to move.” The words instantly cut through your sleep, your body jolting into action as you sit up, blinking into the early morning light. David is beside the bed, and you scramble to find your clothes.
“What-what happened?”
“Timothy Adam had a woman dropped off at his house. Morgan and Reid moved in.” You stand, dragging your pants up before catching the vest David throws at you, shoving your feet into your shoes. “I can’t get either on coms.”
Both of you are rushing from the house, guns held at your sides, crossing the quiet street on quick feet. Your heart pounds as you fall in line behind David, covering him as your eyes sweep the yard. The little brick house might have once been charming, but now it lies dilapidated in the middle of an overgrown yard with a multitude of broken-down cars surrounding it. The fog that clings to the brown, dying grass and hollowed-out shells gives you a sense of foreboding, like it’s foreshadowing whatever horrors wait inside.
The front door is wide open, splintered and dented in on the side, a sign of being kicked in. David holds his fist up, halting you as he draws near the door, leaning in with his gun drawn.
“Clear!” Morgan’s voice rings out, and your shoulders sag. David looks over his shoulder with the same visible ease before holstering his weapon and entering the house. Sirens alert you of the arrival of the rest of your crew and the local P.D., as you follow David into the house.
The next few hours are spent inside what felt like the grim reimagining of a Stephen King novel. The small two-bedroom house had been gutted and transformed into a slaughterhouse. The rotting floors and curling wallpapers are smeared in grime and aged blood. Barely working freezers scattered the main room, containing the missing pieces of each woman that had gone missing. A smell so retched and diabolical clung to every inch, making eyes water and stomach churn. And there in the middle of it all, on his knees, was the man who had orchestrated it all, not a single shred of remorse in his beady eyes as he smiles up at Morgan, who points a gun at the man’s head.
Finally, the monster responsible for the five women’s slaughter had been brought down, but was there ever truly any justice in a case like this?
Now was the time for a cool-down, letting adrenaline subside as everything was broken down. Soon, the entire team would be boarding the jet, only to wait in morbid anticipation for the next case to drop.
Back in the house you and David had spent the night, you’re breaking down your cot, struggling with a sticky leg when the door behind you creaks open. You turn and smile at Derek as he leans against the door jam. “Hey, mind giving me a hand, since you’re here?”
“I will once you answer some questions.” The accusatory tone of his voice makes you stiffen, straightening up as your spine tenses and muscles coil tight.
“Questions?”
Derek moves into the room, his boots heavy on the floor. “Tell me why, when I know for a fact that you were here all night, you showed up this morning with your neck covered in hickies?” He stops only a few feet away, pointing a finger in your face with a look of anger that sends a chill down your spine. Eyes widening, your hand shoots to your neck, having completely forgotten about them after the abrupt waking from this morning.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and swallowing against the raw anxiety building in your chest. “I-I… Derek, I can promise you that it isn’t what it looks like.”
“Oh?” He laughs sardonically, and you flinch inwardly as he shakes his head. “ ‘Isn’t what it looks like’? That’s rich, because from where I am standing, it looks like you cheated on Brian with David last night.”
You scrub your face, turning away as pain flares to life in your chest. You whisper, “I didn’t cheat…”
“Don’t give me that shi-“
“I DIDN’T CHEAT!” You snap, whirling around to face him with an open look of agony on your face, causing Derek to freeze. “I didn’t cheat… Brian and I got a divorce a month ago…” You suck in a shaky breath, eyes misting over, and Morgan deflates before you, confusion etching into his features, but you cut him off. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell anyone because I wasn’t ready, but last night I just broke and spilled, and David was there to catch all of those pieces and-and…” A blush scotches up your cheeks as you fall off, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at him.
The silence that stretches is heavy before Morgan sighs. “Y/n… I’m- I’m sorry.” Regret colors his tone and your tense shoulders sag.
“You don’t have to be… You didn’t know and I understand where you were coming from. Brian and I have been in the dumps for a few years now… and..” You heave a sigh and fan your face trying to cool your warming cheeks. “It’s a lot to talk about right now, but I can tell you everything in time just please… please don’t say anything to anyone else…”
“I won’t I promise… but I’m sorry for how I came in here hot headed, and I’m sorry you are going through this and didn’t feel you could come to any of us.”
Those tears you had tried to blink away spilled over your cheeks and you let Derek bridge the distance and hug you tightly. A long moment you let him squeeze you a little too tightly before you draw back, trying to laugh off your tears. “I didn’t want to keep it from any of you but I needed time to get myself back together… besides do you know how hard it has been keeping all of this off of Garcia’s screens?”
Morgan only smiles but it’s tight and small before bending down to help you with your cot.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The jet is blessedly warm, the seats a relief to sink into after such a long week.
Closing your eyes, you let your head roll back, a deep sigh passing through the cabin as everyone settles down for the flight home.
The seat beside yours shifts, and you crack your eyes open. David smiles, just the slightest tilt to his lips as he looks down at you from the corner of his eye.
He leans in, and your stomach flutters as a warmth spreads through your limbs. “Dinner. This week at my house. Okay?”
A blush lights up your cheeks, fighting against a smile rising on your lips. You shift in your seat, gently knocking your knee against his. Pitching your voice to a whisper, you nod your head. “I would like that… very much.”