Forbidden Fruit [Hotch x Reader]
Part 1:
Summary: After an almost-breakup with your boyfriend, he invites you to come meet his family and stay with them for a week. You, however, catch his father’s eye.
Pairings: Dom!Hotch x Fem!Reader for @hotchafterhours challenge.
Warnings: 18+! Heavy smut, dirty talk, literal DILF Hotch, boyfriend’s dad! Hotch. Sir kink, Daddy kink, rough at times. Thigh riding, degradation kinda. Probably the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written.
Word count: 4K
———
The air is hot and humid, the leather sticks to the back of your thighs and you’re still groggy from your nap. You’re ten minutes away from Fairfax County and still confused at why your boyfriend insisted you come meet his family for the week, especially after you almost broke up.
Zach has a contentious relationship with his father, citing often that he loved work more than he loved his family. Meeting somebody whose reputation precedes them like this is a nerve wracking ordeal, it doesn’t help that you’re not great with kids either.
You soon turn into a quiet suburban street, lined with big houses, manicured lawns and shrubs and expensive cars. Zach pulls into a driveway where a beat up Chevy is parked.
As you’re helping Zach bring the bags into the house, a blonde woman zips past both of you, throwing a quick, polite greeting your way and kissing Zach’s cheek.
“Sorry I can’t stay, I’m late for work, I’ll see you guys at dinner tomorrow night. Nice to meet you!” She waves at you, climbing into the car.
You turn to Zach. “That’s your Aunt Jess, right?”
He nods, placing a hand on your back, leading you through the house and into the garden. “She watches Jack while Dad’s away. Speaking of whom…”
A little boy splashes around in the pool in front of you but as soon as he sees Zach, he all but flies out of the pool and tackles him with his wet body.
Zach grunts with effort, ruffling his wet hair. “Hey, buddy! I missed you. Give me two minutes, I’ll change and jump in with you?”
The boy nods enthusiastically as his brother retreats inside. You crouch down meanwhile, outstretching your hand and introduce yourself.
“I’m Jack.” He tells you shyly.
“Wow Jack, you’re very handsome.” You tease and he warms up slightly, smiling a little.
Twenty minutes later, you’re splashing your feet in the pool in your bathing suit, a cool reprieve from the humidity when your throat suddenly feels scratchy. You reach for your glass, realising it’s empty.
“Fridge.” Zach shouts.
You throw your towel over your shoulder and pad inside to the cooler kitchen, blinking as your eyes adjust. You scan the fridge for some water, humming lightly to the music in your headphones.
You swear you hear a noise but you shrug it off - it’s probably just the boys outside. You keep scanning the fridge, eyes falling to the bottles to the back, but when you turn around, you gasp in shock, bottles falling to the tile floor.
You’re met with an older gentleman in a suit, who’s watching you inquisitively.
“Shit!” No, I’m sorry,” You stammer, unplugging your ears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to curse, you just scared me, that’s all.”
The older man chuckles, ducking his head respectfully when the boys come in through the glass doors, their faces lighting up.
“Dad! I thought you weren’t getting back until tonight.”
Oh. Dad.
“Oh no, we got in from Phoenix earlier than expected so I came straight home, remembering we had company.” He replies pointedly.
Zach gives his father a firm handshake which soon dissolves into a hug, both men patting each other on the back. You know you shouldn’t stare, it’s your boyfriend’s father, but the way his work shirt strains against his back and shoulders catches your eye. Zach raises an eyebrow, silently questioning you but you shake your head.
He releases Zach from the hug, moving on to ruffle Jack’s hair as he turns to you. “And who do we have here?” He asks, looking you up and down.
Zach introduces you quickly before being dragged outside by Jack, leaving you to grab the water bottles and join them back outside. Mr Hotchner holds your gaze intensely and outstretches a large hand, a Rolex sitting pretty on his wrist.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”.
He smirks “Pleasure. Please, call me Aaron.” He takes your smaller hand in his, strong and sturdy.
He thinks you don’t catch it, but you watch the way his eyes fall to your cleavage when you lean in for the handshake, his gaze sweeping down your exposed stomach and thighs. You catch him swallowing thickly, nostrils flaring.
The silence is heavy, almost awkward. You realise you’re both standing there, watching each other in silence, not quite sure of what to say or do.
“Well. I should get back out there.” You tell him, clearing your throat.
“Yes, of course.” He allows you to pass by him on your way back to the porch, but as he moves to the fridge himself, you remember you forgot your bottles.
You turn back around to pick them off the floor when you realise you’re kneeling in front of your boyfriend’s very tall, very strong, very attractive father, and his gaze is glued to your breasts. He knows he shouldn’t either, you’re his son’s girlfriend, it’s completely out of bounds, but the way your bathing suit sits on your body - he can’t help but stare.
You catch his eyes innocently, unsure of how to take his presence in front of you, but you settle for hastily picking up the bottles and excusing yourself awkwardly.
You slide the doors shut behind you, handing the boys their drinks, but not before you turn back around to take a cursory look in the kitchen and your breath hitches at what you see.
Mr. Hotchner stands there, just as you’d left him, watching you intently with dark eyes, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
———
The space between the kitchen island and the counters is small and leaves you little room to move around, meaning that the run up to dinner is intimate at the very least. Just as Mr. Hotchner turns to drain a pot of pasta behind you, you reach for a bowl of bread across the island.
You breath hitches when you feel a hard body behind you, something nestling just beneath your ass. You whip around to find an awkward Mr Hotchner who clears his throat and mutters an apology to you under his breath, eyes fixated on your collarbone.
Once you settle in at the dinner table, drinks and conversation flow steadily but you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, and you can’t help but watch him back. The way Mr Hotchner moves, the way he looks, the authority in his presence and voice makes you weak at the knees, and it’s not helped by the fact that he’s forbidden fruit.
Watching Mr Hotchner’s arms flex while he talks makes you chug your wine as a futile distraction, but the way he stares at your lips when you do, doesn’t go amiss.
You swallow thickly.
“So, what are you majoring in?” He asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.
“Oh, I’m pre-law, Sir.”
He ignores the way he twitches in his pants at the way ‘Sir’ falls out of your mouth, instead nodding along. “Wow. Clever girl. Your parents must be proud.”
“Yeah! You know, Dad used to be a prosecutor, maybe you could give her some pointers?” Zach suggests.
You clear your throat and smile uncomfortably, sipping your drink. A leg brushes against yours momentarily under the table, and you look at Zach but he’s immersed in a conversation with his brother. Your eyes jerk to Mr. Hotchner who watches you keenly, his leg rubbing against yours before he retreats.
“Can you pass the bread please?” He asks nonchalantly.
You reach across to hand him the bowl, his eyes falling to your chest again, but this time he holds your gaze for as long as he can until he’s interrupted by Zach.
Still, through the night, Mr Hotchner makes sure to watch you, gazing at your lips, your eyes, your cleavage, and you’re finding it increasingly difficult to distinguish whether the heady atmosphere is because of the wine or because of the effect he has on you.
Zach ducks out to make a phone call as soon as dinner is over, which leaves you in the kitchen alone with his father to help clean up after dinner.
“So.” He asks. “What’s somebody like you doing with my son?”
“Sorry?”
“Beautiful girl like you, I’d think you have plenty of options.” He adds the last part with a covert scan of your body, his eyes lingering on your legs.
Your cheeks grow hot. “Oh, thank you. But, Zach’s great, Sir.”
There it is again. Sir.
“Oh, I know my son. I’m also a profiler.”
You’re still trying to figure out what he means by that when you knick yourself on the knife you’re drying. You wince in pain, allowing the knife to clatter onto the floor as you grab your index finger.
He shuts off the tap immediately, drying his hands with a towel as he cradles your hand in his, cursing under his breath. “Damnit. It’s not deep, is it? Let me take a look, Sweetheart.”
He blows on your cut gently, leaving you to keep pressure on the finger as he grabs some bandages from the cupboard behind you. The front of his body presses up against you, allowing his cologne to flood your senses, his chest on yours.
You refocus quickly when he cradles your hand again, and when the alcohol from the wipe stings the cut, you wince. He shushes you gently, blowing on your finger as he carefully bandages you up, painfully close to you. You can’t help but stare at his lips and his strong hands.
“There you go. All done.” He whispers, tipping your chin lightly. “Wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
It’s only when he lets your finger go that he realises how close he is to you, and how your back is to the kitchen counter. He gulps, gaze falling to your lips, as he breathes in your air, stepping closer still. Your heart thunders in your chest and your knees feel a little weak at the way he stares you down.
“I should go.” You whisper. He places two hands on the countertop at either side of your waist, caging you in. He inhales the scent of your hair, nose lightly brushing against your temple.
“Zach’s right outside.” You breathe, meeting his gaze.
“I don’t care.” He whispers, his knuckle brushing your cheek, featherlight, his fingers coming to cup your chin. You try to speak again but his thumb swipes your bottom lip and blood roars in your ears. “My God, you’re beautiful.” He mutters.
You shudder when you feel the evidence of his arousal against your thigh. He leans in slowly, licking his lips, his hand moving off the counter to grip your waist. You feel his hot breath fan your face as your eyes flutter closed.
“Guys? Where are you?”
Zach’s voice makes him snap back like a rubber band and you’re still left standing against the counter, trying to tame your breathing when your boyfriend comes into the kitchen.
He’s unwaveringly calm and poised when he meets his son’s gaze. “Good phone call?” He asks.
“Yeah, it was just a friend. Everything okay?” Zach asks, looking between you.
You clear your throat. “Oh, yeah. I cut my finger on the knife and your dad was just helping clean me up.”
“Oh. Well I think Jack wanted to watch Captain America with us.”
You eye Aaron and the pile of yet to be washed dishes but he waves you off. “Oh, I’m almost done. You guys go ahead.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
As you leave the kitchen, you take another look back where Aaron stands frozen in place, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he watches you leave. He sees the way you adjust yourself, can practically guarantee that your panties are a mess, his eyes glued to your legs in the sundress.
———
You’ve been waiting for Zach to come to bed for the past half hour after his brother insisted that he tuck him in. You reach for your phone and pop your head through Jack’s door and see Jack fast asleep but your boyfriend seems to be whispering on the phone. It’s muffled at first, but when you focus, you hear him.
“I miss you too, baby. I can’t wait to see you again.”
Your eyes widen. You’d been right all along. Months of gaslighting and pretending you were crazy for thinking he was cheating, you’d known in your gut you were right. You close the door quietly behind you, refusing to create a scene when his family is around and walk downstairs to grab some water and clear your mind.
The kitchen is dark, save for the moonlight that reflects off of the floor. You reach for a glass, the action exposing a little of your stomach and pour yourself some water from the fridge. You lean against the counter staring blankly ahead of you, the light from the fridge illuminating your body.
“Something bothering you?” A voice murmurs.
You jump out of your skin, squinting in the dark to find Mr Hotchner sat at the kitchen table with a glass of Scotch. You must have passed him on your way in… how did you miss him? His watch catches the light as he gets up slowly.
You swallow. “No. I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’m sorry.” You set the glass down and attempt to retreat back upstairs. You’re about to walk past him but he places a hand against the wall to stop you.
You look between him and the space he’s blocking, smiling awkwardly. You stall, manoeuvring around him but he grabs your upper arm and pins you against the wall before placing another hand on the wall, caging you in.
His breath fans your face, his eyes staring at your lips.
“Sir. I need to get back, Zach’s going to wonder-“
“He’s not wondering about anything.” He whispers, running a finger down your collarbone. “You know what he’s doing. Like I said, I know my son.”
Your heart thunders in your chest. “He’s right upstairs.”
His nose trails up your neck and buries into your hair. You shudder against him, finding it hard to think straight. He’s criminally handsome, strong and he smells so fucking good.
And that voice. God, that voice.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.” He murmurs in your ear. His finger hooks gently around the strap of your camisole and lifts just slightly, exposing your stomach. “Zach’s never been one for the finer things in life.” He moves on to the waistband of your shorts next, snapping the elastic and gripping your waist. “Me, on the other hand…”
You can feel yourself getting wetter, warmth igniting within you. But he’s your boyfriend’s dad, it would cross the line entirely. You try to turn away but he takes your wrists and pins them above your head, shoving a knee between your thighs.
You gasp at the sensation. “Sir, please-”
He groans, shifting his knee to rub against you. “Never heard that word sound prettier comin’ out of anyone else’s mouth.” His forehead rests on yours. “I know I can appreciate a pretty little thing like you.”
He’s clouding your judgement, all you can focus on is how good he feels and the throbbing between your thighs. A dark grin appears on his face when you whimper.
He grips both of your wrists in a single hand now, his free hand ghosting over your sides, thumb gently running over your nipples in your thin camisole. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop - we’ll never speak of this again.” He pushes his knee up again, making you gasp. “But I know you want this. I can feel how much you want this. I want to hear it from you.”
Goosebumps break out on your skin, when he rubs against you just right. You try your best to not give in to the temptation but when he starts kissing your neck you all but beg him.
“Yes.” You nod. “Yes, I want this. I want you.”
He grins darkly, rubbing a thumb over your lips, pushing it into your mouth. “Good girl. Come on my thigh, I want you to get yourself off on me.”
You stare at him wide-eyed but he grips your hip and pulls you down on his thigh harder, guiding you to rub against him. Your hands are still pinned and you’re immobilised entirely, all you can do is chase the feeling of release while he moans praise into your ear.
“Such a tempting little thing, aren’t you? Dirtier than I gave you credit for, fucking your boyfriend’s father while he’s right upstairs? I knew I wanted to feel that mouth wrapped around my cock the minute I saw you in that skimpy little bikini earlier.” His words pool heat in the pit of your stomach faster than most things, his gruff voice charging you.
His hand moves to grab roughly at your breasts through your cami, rolling your nipples between his fingers. His own breathing becomes laboured with your strangled moans and whispers, and he places a hand around your mouth to stop you from getting too loud.
“Any other day, I’d want to hear all the pretty little noises I know your mouth makes. Not tonight. Can you be quiet for me?”
You whimper into his hand, an orgasm fast approaching with the lack of airflow. You nod furiously as your skin prickles and your eyes roll back, your hips unrelenting now. Your own wetness and his hard thigh make for a deliciously sinful combination, and when his hand wraps around your throat, you work desperately to bring yourself to the edge.
His eyes light up. “Oh, you like that, huh? Pretty little slut likes getting choked.” He marvels at you. “Oh I can feel you soaking my slacks through, I bet if I just…” He angles his knee to rub against you just as your shorts ride up enough to expose your pussy and your vision goes white.
The lack of oxygen, his cologne and the danger of the situation make you tense against him as pleasure splinters up your spine and makes you throb. Your back arches off the wall, arms still immobilised by him as you let shockwaves wash over you in a silent scream.
He finally lets your throat and arms go, allowing enough air into your lungs as reprieve, eyes glued on you, his mouth falling open. Your arms feel slightly numb but you can’t care, not when he lifts you slightly to rub his index and middle finger up your slit, to your clit. You twitch against him.
“Fuck.” He mutters, bringing his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. “Just as sweet as I thought you’d be. Kills me that I can’t taste you right now, but fuck, I need to feel that pussy squeezing my cock.”
You’re still hazy when he grabs you roughly and turns you to face the wall. He discards your shorts unceremoniously, unzipping his slacks and with the flat of his hand, he rubs your pussy from behind. He widens his stance, bracketing your legs outside of his, and with one hand palming at your tits, he pushes inside of you.
He lets out a string of expletives, twitching inside of you. “My God, that’s a wet fucking pussy, I do that to you?”
“Yes, Sir.” You moan.
You can feel the effect the name has on him, a fullness that you can feel in your stomach. Almost like it’s instinct, his hand trails down, fingers pushing against where you can feel him at his deepest, as he starts to thrust shallowly.
The stretch stings but so does the way he squeezes your ass tight enough to leave marks. He walks you over to the kitchen table, places a hand on your lower back until you’re bent over, and with a twist of your hair in his hands, pulls your head back.
You gasp at the pull, but when he begins to slam in and out of you roughly, withdrawing almost completely and burying himself back inside you, you fight for a grip on the table. The way he has you angled makes him rub against you deeper than anyone has, his thrusts punishing and deep, taking your breath away. You drip down your thighs and onto his slacks, as he grits his teeth, the table inching forward every time he slams into you.
The noises he makes are subdued, but carnal, the rough material of his clothes paired with the grip on your hair makes you burn for him. You can feel yourself throb around him, the wet noises of your pussy louder now as he thrusts into you. He pulls you up, cradling your chin, another hand rubbing furiously at your clit.
“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” You nod, allowing him to take your weight. “Use your words, and don’t forget your manners.”
“Yes, Sir.” You moan. “Your cock feels so good inside my tight little pussy. Please don’t stop, Sir. Don’t stop.”
He grunts, slapping your pussy. “Who’s pussy is this?” And another one. “Hm? Who’s pretty little pussy is this? Does it belong to me?” He delivers a slap for each word he speaks.
“Yes, Sir. It’s yours, it’s all yours. Take it, just please make me cum.”
“Can anyone else fuck you like this? Make you this wet and desperate? Make you beg like I can?” You shake your head, fumbling for words now at the way he rubs the right spot deep inside you. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart?” He asks, feeling you flutter around him.
His thrusts begin to falter, his cock swelling and throbbing inside you. Your innocent face contorted in such utter pleasure drives him closer, drunk on the velvet feel of your pussy.
“I’m on the pill. I want to feel you inside me, Sir. Please let me feel you, Sir.” You whine.
He wraps his hand around your throat again, and bends you back over the table, this time allowing his clothed torso to rub against your back, his weight falling on you. He widens your legs, allowing him to push deeper inside you with every snap of his hips.
You’re both on the precipice, your body is on fire and all you can feel, hear and taste is him. The blood thumps in your ears and you begin to flutter around his cock, his pace unrelenting.
“Oh, I can feel you squeezing me tight. That’s it, pretty girl, come on Daddy’s cock.”
The word Daddy slipping from his mouth while he slams into you sends you into a tailspin and short circuits your brain. Your legs tremble as he fucks into you, impossible hard and fast, as electricity sparks at the base of your spine and travels through your body.
You go limp, allowing him to take you however he wants as he fucks you through your orgasm, your head swimming with pleasure. You can feel him throbbing inside you, your juices making you slick.
“Please, Daddy.” You whimper. “Give me that cum, let me feel it deep inside me.”
Your voice makes his thrusts falter and he lets out a groan, slamming into you one more time. With a bite of your shoulder, he cums, hard, deep inside you while his legs shake. He thrusts shallowly a few more times, riding out his orgasm, before moving off your back and pulling you up with him.
He turns you easily, sitting you on the table, and watches his cum leak out of you. It’s obscenely sexy, your pussy worn and used, still throbbing with aftershocks. He takes himself in his hand, and with the tip of his cock, he pushes his release back in slowly, thrusting gently. He grabs your shorts and pull them up your legs, tight enough to rub against your pussy, grabbing the water from the side of the table and bringing it to your mouth.
“Keep that where it belongs, angel.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
———
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