Friend of the Family
Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]
Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...
⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️
"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."
He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."
He drones on,
"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.
And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."
I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.
Our plane finally touches down, we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"
Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."
The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.
We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.
Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.
ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-
The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans steps out to greet us, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.
"Jonathan!!"
"Reed!!"
Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.
"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.
"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.
"The very same, can you believe it?"
I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.
"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"
"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.
Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest, vanilla extract.
"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."
He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.
His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.
We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.
We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-
"Little after dinner drink then?"
My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles, warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...
"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"
"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.
We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.
So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?
"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"
"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing MFA program right now... its... interesting."
"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.
"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.
"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.
"You're an alum?"
"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.
"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.
"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"
"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.
"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."
"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.
"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."
"Can I top you up?"
"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.
"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.
"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."
"Aw come on,"
"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.
He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.
"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.
"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.
"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"
"NFR."
His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."
"But I'm not."
"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"
"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."
"And you... answer them."
"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"
"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"
"...Paradise." I squint at him.
"Mm, see? We agree on something."
I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.
"Yeah?"
He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"
"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.
"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."
"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.
"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.
He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"
The tip of his tongue trails his lip, my gaze following its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.
"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.
"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"
Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses, his cheshire smirk enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.
My face grows hot and my body tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.
He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.
The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.
As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.
I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.
"Can I?" I blink.
He nods eagerly, transfixed.
I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.
I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.
"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.
"How do you want me?"
"Turn around."
I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.
"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."
I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.
"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you. will. not. make. a sound. understood?"
"Y-yes Mr. Reed."
I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.
"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan
"Shhhh-shh..."
"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.
He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and I watch his head tip against the back of the couch. His cock twitches inside me and gasp sharply.
"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.
He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.
"Lay back on the couch here, pet."
He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.
He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.
"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"
He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.
The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.
He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip back into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.
"Mister Reed?" I breathe
"Mm?"
"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.
"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.
"Being so good for me..."
A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.
Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.
"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.
Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.
"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.
I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.
The footsteps and floorboards finally stop, his grip on my neck releases some, and a warm haze overtakes my body as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.
Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.
We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.
I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.
"Needed.. that..." I huff.
"I could tell," he chortles.
Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.
"Oh, and... it does, by the way."
Part 2❄️