idea: spencer who doesn't rlly understand how to go about offering his partner physical affection but he decides to man up and just do it one day and is so surprised when it works
Offerings of Affection
Pairing : Spencer Reid x Reader
A/N : I love how complex Spencer is, like bursting with love so quickly but too insecure to put it into action
Your relationship with Spencer Reid was a new one. But it had blossomed quickly, going from strangers to lovers in the blink of an eye. Moments together were rare, as work often called Spencer away, but that only made each one something precious, something to cherish.
Spencer had no issues regarding your relationship, how could he possibly when he loved you so enormously? Spencer was confident in his affections, and trusted you wholeheartedly.
And yet, there was one thing that had bothered him since day one. One concern that triumphed all he treasured about you. And that concern was only something he could control. Only something he could fix.
Spencer Reid had spent a life time shying away from physical touch. He was consciously aware of the fact that one’s hands could carry between 10,000 to 10 million pieces of bacteria at any given time. It was fairly disheartening to him, as a young boy, as he had read that bacteria could cause serious illnesses and infections.
These daunting thoughts had carried on from childhood and extended into adulthood, it was one of the grave downsides to an eidetic memory.
His fear was only kindled by his profession, and it reflected itself in his conscious efforts to avoid all kinds of physical touch. Denying even the most simplest of handshakes.
Unfortunately, this meant that when it came to his personal life, and his relationships, his knowledge on physical touch was slim. He didn’t know the ways to touch someone to elicit a complimentary response, nor how to hold them in a comforting way when grief brought them down.
He puzzled over this thought endlessly. It had consumed his mind, and distracted him from casework files. After all, a huge part of intimacy stemmed from physical affection.
Spencer could read as many books as he liked on the subject of touch, but having no tangible experience meant that he couldn’t prove any of his theories. And he so longed to put it into practice. He wanted to show his beloved how he felt, not just through confessions of love, but through offerings of affection.
The thought of physical touch was constantly at the forefront of Spencer’s mind. His eyes traced over your dancing, busy-body form as you pranced about the kitchen making dinner.
It was spaghetti bolognese. Or at least a poor attempt at making it. He smiled to himself, preventing the chuckle at the thought of your many culinary disasters. In your defence you were a chef in learning, or at least that was your previous claim.
Most nights were spent with Spencer’s cooking or a night out on the town, where he treated you to a wonderful restaurant, bustling with life. Spencer liked to spoil you, it made him feel less inept in the relationship.
He steeled his nerves. He knew you were patient, but he knew that patience had limits. He could hardly stand by forever and not act. Not when he longed to touch you, to feel your warmth and share his own with you.
As your hips swayed to the beat of the music, you’d put on as background noise, he found himself surging forwards, compelled by an all consuming need.
He gently, tentatively, placed his hands on your hips. You froze. Stuck between wanting to scream in joy and afraid to break a rare moment of affection. “It smells good.” He whispered softly, his lips brushing your ear. Spencer rested his chin on your shoulder, leaning against you. His fingers nervously drummed against your waist.
“It is good.” You proudly declared, despite not having tasted your own efforts. Lifting the spoon up you guided it to his lips. “Open.” You demanded.
Spencer caught the twinkle in your eye and obediently acquiesced to your demands. He could never refuse you. He had never wanted to.
Flavours burst on his tongue. It was good. It was really good. The savoury tomato contrasted brilliantly to whatever spices and herbs you had added. He wondered too if you’d added a splash of red wine to it, the sauce carried a certain bold richness which reminded him of a Malbec you adored.
“It’s really—.” He began to speak, willingly offering you a compliment for your hard work, when suddenly he was the recipient of a much better compliment.
The rich sauce had been replaced by soft, welcoming lips. To which Spencer breathed a needy sigh into. Your hands tangled in his hair, spoon discarded on the counter with a quiet plunk.
His lips moved against yours, pleasantly surprised by the sudden show of affection. The moment was over all too soon as you slowly withdrew, placing a final peck on his lips. He observed the rosiness in your cheeks. He didn’t have to ask what that was for. He knew. He could read it on you face. You were rewarding him for his unprompted touch.
Spencer, only encouraged by this, buried his face into the crook of your neck. Committing your scent to mind. He breathed you in, lips curling upwards in victory against your warm skin. He placed a kiss on your neck, rewarded by a silent shiver. If he had known you’d be so receptive to touch he never would have shied away. Never would have let his concerns and grievances consume him.
He stored this newfound knowledge away in a little box at the farthest corner of his mind. Something only he knew, something only he could explore. Spencer embraced you. Never again would he not put his yearning for you into action.
