Working Overtime
When the rest of the BAU team dumps all their boring paperwork on Spencer because he's too sweet to say no, you decide he's done enough data entry for one day. You successfully lure the resident genius out of the bright office and back to his apartment under the guise of "helping" him finish the case files over coffee. But he's not the shy stuttering boy from the office. Spencer is thoroughly obsessed and determined to thoroughly analyze every single inch of you. And the paperwork is officially Hotch's problem for tomorrow.
Read it on AO3 | Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Tags: Smut, Rough S*x, Thigh Riding, Dry Humping, Multiple Orgasms, Couch S*x, Oral S*x, Top/Dom Spencer Reid, Soft Dom Spencer Reid, Praising, Degradation, Teasing, S*xual Overstimulation, Aftercare, My First Work in This Fandom
Word count: 11.2k
The bullpen of the Behavioral Analysis Unit was unusually quiet, the heavy silence broken only by the low hum of the fluorescent lights and the rhythmic scratching of Spencer’s pen.
The rest of the team had finally drifted out, exhausted after a grueling three day geographic profiling case that had left everyone running on fumes.
Hotch had dropped the final mountain of federal case files -post mortem reports and bureaucratic standard operating procedures- onto the central table with a heavy sympathetic sigh, quietly asking Spencer if he could handle sorting the cross references by morning.
Spencer hadn't even hesitated, he had just offered a tired genuinely sweet smile, adjusted his satchel and quietly gathered the massive stack of folders.
You sat at your desk across the bullpen, your jaw tight as you watched him carry the heavy load back to his desk.
It felt so incredibly unfair, the rest of the team completely relied on Spencer's inability to say no to a cognitive puzzle. He was always the one cleaning up the administrative mess because his brain physically couldn't let an unsolved or disorganized file rest.
You wanted to say something, to snap at the universe for taking advantage of his good nature but you kept your mouth shut. You just watched him trudge into his glass walled office, looking every bit the self sacrificing genius everyone took for granted.
A little while later, you walked toward his office. Through the glass, you saw he wasn't trying to look composed anymore.
He was slumped back in his chair, his slender frame practically swallowed by the seat, staring at the mountain of paperwork with a look of pure quiet exhaustion, his fingers were pressed to his temples, looking completely overwhelmed.
You pushed the door open without knocking.
"Spencer?"
He jumped, his misaligned glasses nearly sliding off his nose as he scrambled to sit up straight, accidentally knocking a highlighter off his desk.
"Oh! Hey! Uh... hi! I... I didn't see you there, just... getting a head start on the geographic data and the cross logistics, very... very statistically engaging stuff."
"You’re a terrible liar Dr. Reid," you said, closing the heavy glass door firmly behind you.
You walked over to his desk but you didn't take the spare chair, instead you sat right on the edge of the desk, leaning back on your hands. You moved slowly, deliberately crossing your legs so that your skirt slid up your thighs, exposing a lot more skin than was strictly professional for a federal office.
Spencer’s eyes dropped instantly and he froze.
You saw the prominent apple of his throat move as he swallowed hard, a bright unmistakable shade of pink started creeping up his neck to his cheeks and his hands -which were resting on a file- twitched nervously.
"Is... is there a specific behavioral query you have?" He asked, his voice a full octave higher than usual. He was trying so hard to force his eyes up to meet your face but his gaze kept darting helplessly back down to your exposed legs.
"I think the question is… what do you need?" You teased, leaning forward so you were invading his personal space, the scent of your perfume cutting through the stuffy office air. "You look like you’re about to drown in these files. Why did you tell Hotch you’d handle all of this alone?"
"Well, mathematically speaking, my reading speed is twenty thousand words per minute with a ninety eight percent retention rate, so objectively, it’s the most efficient distribution of labor," Spencer stammered, his eyes finally meeting yours, looking utterly dazed. "I just... I want to be helpful to the team, it’s the logical thing to do."
"Is it logical to let yourself get stepped on?" You countered, your voice dropping to a low flirtatious hum. "You’re too nice Spencer, it drives me crazy."
Spencer let out a nervous breathless laugh, his fingers frantically twisting his pen. "Does it? I... I didn't realize my organizational compliance was a catalyst for... for cognitive provocation."
"It's not the compliance," you whispered, reaching out to toy with the corner of the folder right next to his hand, your fingers brushing against his skin. "It's the fact that you’re sitting here overwhelmed and you won't ask for help, so I'm offering… let me help you with these."
Spencer looked at the papers then back at you, he looked like he was struggling to form a coherent sentence, the sight of you sitting on his desk, looking at him with heavy lids and a knowing smile was clearly short circuiting his brilliant brain.
"I... I couldn't possibly ask you to stay late in the bureau under these fluctuating fluorescent lights," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Studies show that prolonged exposure to high frequency flickering lights can cause visual fatigue and decrease cognitive focus by up to twelve percent. It's... it's not very fun."
"I agree," you said, leaning even closer. "So let's not stay here, it's loud, bright and the janitorial staff is going to start vacuuming soon. Why don't we take all of this back to your apartment? You can make me some of that ridiculously strong coffee you’re always talking about and we can actually get some work done in peace. What do you think?"
Spencer’s eyes went wide, he looked like a deer in headlights… but a very, very happy deer. "My... my apartment? Oh well... statistically, a familiar residential environment with controlled sensory stimuli would be far more... efficient. The environment would be much more conducive to... productivity."
"Productivity," you repeated, your voice trailing off suggestively. "Exactly."
"Right!" Spencer said, suddenly standing up so fast his lanky legs tangled and he bumped his knee hard against the desk drawer. "Ow... boy... right, let’s... let’s pack up. I have a fresh bag of dark roast from Kenya and... and some cookies, oatmeal raisin, very biochemically sustaining."
He started shoving files into his leather satchel with a frantic clumsy energy, dropping his pen twice and nearly knocking over his desk lamp.
You watched him from the desk, thoroughly amused by how completely flustered he was.
As you and Spencer walked out toward the elevator lobby, the heavy satchel swinging from his shoulder, a voice called out from down the hall.
"Hey! Wait up!"
It was Detective Harris, a local investigator from the field office who had been helping with the case. He was jogging toward you, looking tall, polished and overly confident in his tactical gear. He came to a stop right in front of you, completely ignoring Spencer, his eyes fixed on you with a hopeful arrogant look.
"Hey," Harris said, flashing a charming smile and rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just heading out. It’s late and I thought... maybe I could drive you home? Grab a late night coffee? You know, for safety and... just to unwind after a crazy case?"
Harris’s interest in you had been incredibly obvious all week, he was always hovering around your desk, trying to find excuses to talk to you. He was handsome in a conventional way but he wasn't the man you wanted to spend your night with.
You felt Spencer instantly stiffen beside you, he didn't say a word but he shifted his weight, stepping just a half inch closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours as his presence suddenly felt much heavier, his defensive instincts flaring.
"That’s really sweet of you Detective," you said, giving him a polite apologetic smile. "But I’m actually not going home yet, Spencer and I have some unfinished federal profiles to take care of."
Harris’s face fell instantly, he looked at you then eyed Spencer up and down, taking note of the worn leather satchel. "Oh... work? You’re... you’re doing paperwork at this hour?"
"Supervisors orders," Spencer chimed in, his voice suddenly losing its anxious stammer, instantly regaining that intimidating authority he used when profiling suspects. "We're heading to my apartment to synthesize the geographic data points before the morning briefing, it’s a critical federal deadline. If we don't map the comfort zone of the unsub tonight, the whole perimeter strategy fails."
"Oh," Harris mumbled, his shoulders slumping under his tactical vest. "Right... the profile... yeah, I forgot how intense you bureau guys are. Well... I guess I’ll just... head out then."
"Have a safe drive Detective," you said kindly.
"Yeah, you too," he muttered, sounding completely dejected as he turned on his heel and started trudging toward the exit.
Spencer waited until Harris was safely around the corner and the elevator doors slid open before he let out a long shaky breath, the sharp protective FBI facade cracked just a little as he stepped into the elevator with you, looking down at his feet.
"Was that... was that okay?" He asked, his voice dropping into a shy soft register. "I didn't mean to be... overbearing, I just... I didn't want him to think we weren't being completely serious."
"It was perfect Spencer," you said softly, reaching out to briefly squeeze his arm. "Now come on, I’m ready to see this 'highly efficient' apartment of yours."
Spencer beamed at you, his face flushing a violent pink all over again as the elevator descended. "Right... my car is in the lower lot, I... I hope you like your coffee strong."
The drive to Spencer’s apartment was a masterclass in suppressed energy, he kept both hands firmly at ten and two on the steering wheel of his old car, his knuckles white as he navigated the evening traffic with excessive overly cautious focus.
"I hope you don't mind the music," Spencer said, his voice a bit thin as a soft melancholic jazz track drifted through the speakers. "It’s Blind Willie McTell. Studies show that low tempo syncopated blues and early jazz rhythms can help lower cortisol levels and encourage synaptic clarity during high stress cognitive tasks. It keeps the brain from collapsing into a non linear state during data analysis."
"It’s fine Spencer," you said, shifting in your seat. You saw his eyes dart toward your legs for a split second before he forcefully yanked his gaze back to the road, his ears burning a bright red. "I actually find it quite relaxing, though I’m not sure linear is how I’m feeling right now."
Spencer swallowed hard, a deep flush creeping up from beneath his mismatched collar. "Well... almost there, just around this corner. It’s a very quiet neighborhood, low crime rate statistically speaking. Very predictable neighbors."
His apartment was exactly what you expected yet completely intoxicating. When he pushed the door open, the scent of old paper, worn leather, rich coffee grounds and a faint hint of cedar hit you immediately.
There wasn't a corporate immaculate inch to the place, instead towering slightly chaotic stacks of books lined the walls, mismatched antique chairs sat beneath warm dim lamps and his desk was covered in loose journals and pens. It was crowded, academic and deeply personal.
"Make yourself at home," Spencer stammered, fumbling with his keys as he set them into a small brass dish by the door. "I’ll just... I’ll take your coat and then the coffee."
As he darted into the kitchen, you looked around the warm dimly lit room. It was overwhelmingly full of his brilliant mind, a physical reflection of the man who lived there.
"Spencer?" You called out. "Since we have so many victim timelines and geographic maps to get through, maybe we should just spread out on the rug? It’ll be faster than trying to cram all these oversized charts onto that small coffee table."
You heard a sudden loud clatter of a coffee scoop hitting the linoleum floor in the kitchen.
"The... the floor?" Spencer’s voice came back, sounding slightly strangled. "I suppose... yes. From a spatial perspective, the hardwood rug area offers a vastly superior surface area for cross referencing multiple federal files simultaneously. I’ll... I’ll be right out."
You knelt on the plush patterned vintage rug and began pulling the files out of the bag. You sat with your knees pulled up toward your chest, a position that caused your skirt to ride up dangerously high. It left the full length of your thighs and the soft curve of your hips completely exposed to the warm lamplight.
When Spencer walked back into the room carrying two steaming mugs of black coffee, he stopped dead in his tracks. The sound of his breathing changed instantly, it went from the quick nervous rhythm of the car ride to something deeper, heavier and far more ragged.
His hazel eyes locked onto the sheer expanse of bare skin your skirt completely failed to hide. For a long moment he just stood there, the steam from the dark coffee rising around his face, his pupils blowing out so wide behind his glasses that his eyes looked almost entirely black.
"Spencer? The coffee?" You prompted softly, tilting your head.
"Right... yes... caffeine," he managed to choke out, his voice dropping an octave.
He sat down beside you on the rug, much closer than was strictly necessary for a collaborative profiling session. As he handed you the mug, his long slender fingers brushed against yours, the contact was electric. He didn't pull away immediately, instead his thumb lingered against your knuckles for a heartbeat too long, the heat of his skin matching the coffee.
"So," you said, trying to maintain a facade of professionalism as you flipped open a thick folder, leaning in. "The local field office completely skipped these cell tower data dumps. We need to cross reference these ping locations with the victim abduction timelines from last Tuesday."
"Right... Tuesday," Spencer echoed. He wasn't looking at the papers, he was staring intensely at your profile, his gaze tracing the line of your jaw, your neck and your lips. "I agree. Vital... structurally vital data."
For the next twenty minutes, you actually managed to get some work done. You were reading off coordinate numbers and he was marking them down in his neat cramped hyper precise handwriting but the tension between you was a physical suffocating weight.
Every time you reached for a map, your arms brushed, every time he leaned over to look at a data point, his shoulder pressed firmly against yours.
He was becoming bolder, his movements less clumsy and far more deliberate. He would "accidentally" let the back of his hand rest against your bare thigh as he reached for a red marker or his fingers would graze your waist as you both leaned in over the same page, his body heat radiating through his cotton shirt.
"I can't find the medical examiner's report for the third victim," you muttered, leaning forward over the scattered sea of documents.
As you reached across the rug to sift through a pile of maps, you leaned low, the neckline of your blouse falling away from your chest. It provided Spencer with a direct, completely unobstructed view. You stayed like that for a long torturous moment, pretending to be deeply invested in finding a piece of paper.
Beside you, Spencer made a sound, a low pained groan that he tried and failed to mask with a rough cough. He suddenly shifted his weight, pulling one of his long legs up and adjusting the way he was sitting on the floor, clearly trying to hide the undeniable prominent evidence of his arousal that was straining hard against his trousers.
"Did you... did you find it?" He asked, his voice was no longer that of the anxious genius, it was a deep gravelly rasp that sent a white hot shiver straight down your spine.
"Not yet," you whispered, slowly turning your head to look at him. Your faces were inches apart now, your breath warm against his cheek. "Maybe it's at the bottom of the pile Spencer. Do you want to help me look?"
Spencer didn't even pretend to look down at the papers, he was staring directly at your mouth, his chest heaving heavily under his starched button down shirt.
"I think," he rasped, his eyes burning into yours, "that I am experiencing a total cognitive overload… I am completely distracted."
Spencer was no longer looking at the reports, the polite clumsy boy from the bullpen was flickering out like a dying candle and the intense possessive mind of a profiler was rushing in to fill the dark space.
"What is distracting you Spencer?" You whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft jazz playing in the background. You let your gaze drop deliberately to his lips -slightly parted and trembling just a fraction- before dragging your eyes back up to meet his dark blown out stare.
"Maybe because," Spencer rasped, his voice dropping into a register so deep it felt like a heavy vibration in the floorboards beneath you, "my mind is currently occupied with a highly detailed list of exactly what I want to do to you."
A thrill of pure heat shot through your core as you leaned in even closer, the tips of your noses almost touching, your breaths mingling in the tiny charged space between you.
"And what is it you want to do to me Dr. Reid?”
He didn't answer with words, his mouth slammed into yours with a desperate starving intensity that made your head tilt back. He tasted like rich dark coffee and raw suppressed hunger, his tongue pushing past your lips, deep and demanding, as if his hyper fixated brain was trying to memorize the exact chemical taste of you in a single go.
You let out a muffled moan against his mouth, your hands flying up to grip his hair, pulling him closer until there wasn't a single atom of air left between you.
When he finally pulled back to breathe, he didn't let you go. His face was deeply flushed, his glasses completely discarded on the rug and his eyes were dark with a terrifyingly sharp predatory focus.
Without a word, he grabbed your waist, his fingers sinking into your skin and hauled you up and over until you were straddling his lap.
The friction of your thighs against his made your breath hitch, you could feel the hard thick ridge of his arousal pressing directly against you through the fabric of his trousers.
Spencer leaned into your ear, his lips grazing your lobe, his voice a lethal articulate whisper that had completely lost its stutter.
“I’ve been analyzing your micro expressions all evening," he murmured, his hot breath sending a shiver straight down your spine. "And I’ve come to the conclusion that this blouse is unnecessary. I think we need to remove it immediately. We wouldn't want any irrelevant variables getting in the way of our progress would we?"
You let out a shaky wet laugh, your head falling back as he started to trail biting bruising kisses down the sensitive line of your neck. "Is that so Dr. Reid? And what does the profiler suggest we do next?"
"The profiler," Spencer groaned, his teeth nipping sharply at the skin of your collarbone, "suggests a completely hands on behavioral assessment. I want to conduct a thorough analysis of every single inch of you… I want to observe exactly how loud your vocal cords can get when I completely shatter your restraint."
He didn't give you time to respond before his mouth was back on yours even more violently than before, it was a rough messy exchange of heat and saliva. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you, his lips never leaving yours for more than a second to gasp for air.
"I've spent the last six hours in that bullpen memorizing the exact millisecond your breathing hitches when my shoulder brushes yours," he rasped against your lips, his voice dropping into a filthy authoritative growl. "And now that I have you here… I’m going to make sure you’re making those same pathetic broken little noises for me all night long."
You let out a broken moan, your fingers clutching at the lapels of his shirt as you arched your back into him, yielding completely. "Yes... please Spencer... I don't want to think about anything but you."
"Good," he hissed, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. "Because I don't intend to let your brain process anything else."
His hands were everywhere. One was tangled deeply in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access while his other hand slid down to your thigh, his palm hot against your bare skin as he squeezed, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled your hips even tighter against his groin.
You didn't stay still, you reached down, your fingers fumbling with his tie and finally ripping it loose and tossing it onto the scattered case files. You moved to his shirt, popping the first few buttons so you could slide your palms inside, feeling the frantic hammering beat of his heart against your hands.
"Spencer," you moaned into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth. "Please..."
"Please what sweetheart?" He rasped, pulling back just an inch, his lips still grazing yours. His voice was a lethal low vibration that made your toes curl. "You need to be specific with what you ask. Do you want me to stop acting like a gentleman? Is that it? Do you want me to show you exactly how rough I can be when I stop holding myself back?"
"Yes," you sobbed, your head thrashing back as his thumb traced the sharp line of your jaw. "Stop being good Spencer... please... just take me."
"Careful what you wish for," he growled, a dark triumphant glint in his blown out eyes. "Because I’ve been waiting a very long time to be very, very bad to you.”
He moved his hands to your waist, his grip firm, bruising and absolutely commanding as he began to shift your weight. He held you tight, guiding your hips to grind down against him in a slow rhythmic circle.
The sensation was overwhelming, every time you pressed down, he let out a choked off sound of praise, his hips bucking up slightly to meet yours.
"That’s it," he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with lust. "So good for me, look at you... so desperate for this. You’re making such a mess of my rug sweetheart."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your swollen lips and blown out pupils. He looked absolutely unhinged, his control beginning to fray at the edges.
"I’m going to fuckin ruin you," he whispered, a dark promise filled smirk tugging at his mouth. "I’m going to be so thorough that you’ll never be able to focus on anything ever again without thinking about how my tongue feels inside you."
He dived back in, his hand sliding up under your skirt, his long fingers finding the damp lace of your underwear.
You let out a loud piercing moan directly into the kiss, your body arching as he began to move his hips in time with yours, the friction reaching a fever pitch.
"What a filthy whore you are," Spencer rasped, pulling back just enough to look down at where his hand had disappeared beneath your skirt. His voice was no longer anxious, it was sharp, clinical and devastatingly dark. "Soaking through your underwear just because I dropped the polite facade. You’re such a needy, responsive little slut aren't you? So desperate for me to touch every inch of you."
"Yes," you sobbed, the raw intensity of his words sending a fresh hot bolt of arousal straight to your core. Your face was flushed, your breathing coming in shallow desperate hitches. "I’m pathetic for you Spencer... please... I need you."
"I see," he growled, his fingers hooking into the lace and tugging hard. "You’re a complete anomaly to my usual control. A total beautiful little mess... and I’m going to make sure you stay that way all night."
The unfinished case files were scattered all over the floor, forgotten and stepped on as Dr. Spencer Reid finally took exactly what he wanted. His hands -once so careful and gentle with administrative memos- were now firm and demanding as he gripped your hips.
He shifted his weight, sliding one of his thighs directly between yours so you were forced to ride high on his leg. The friction was immediate and staggering, you let out a sharp broken cry, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
"Not so fast," Spencer rasped, his voice sounding like gravel as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, teasing the entrance to your mouth. "If you cum like a good girl for me, I’ll give you exactly what you want… but you have to earn it."
He didn't wait for an answer before his mouth crashed back onto yours, it was a rough tongue heavy kiss that tasted like pure desperation. His hands moved to the buttons of your blouse but he wasn't being gentle, he was clumsy in his haste, nearly ripping the fabric as he shoved it off your shoulders.
When he moved to the clasp of your bra, his long fingers made short work of it. His eyes darkened to a near black as your chest was finally exposed to the cool air of his apartment and his heated gaze.
"Beautiful," he breathed, his brilliant voice cracking slightly. "Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful."
"Spencer... please," you whimpered, your skin prickling under the weight of his intense stare. You reached for him, your fingers trembling as they grazed his forearms, your body humming with a desperate need.
"What do you want?" He rasped, his voice dropping into a lethal low register. "Do you want me to keep looking? Or do you want me to finally start the hands-on portion of this assessment?"
He didn't even wait for your answer. Before you could get a single word past your swollen lips, he leaned down, his mouth replacing his gaze. He claimed you with a sudden hungry intensity, his tongue swirling around the peak of your breast as his hand squeezed your waist, pinning you firmly against his thigh.
"Ah hah!~... Spencer!... Please!” You moaned, the contact was electric as he began to show you exactly how much he had been holding back all week.
He grabbed your waist and began to move you roughly against his thigh, the fabric of his trousers provided the perfect agonizing resistance.
You arched your back, your head falling back as a loud involuntary moan tore from your throat.
"I need an answer," Spencer murmured, his lips moving down to the sensitive column of your throat. "Who does this body belong to while we’re working late? Tell me."
You couldn't say a word, you were too far gone, your brain turned to absolute mush by the sensation of him moving you.
Suddenly he stopped, he went completely still, holding you firmly so you couldn't grind against him anymore. The sudden loss of friction felt like a physical blow.
"I didn't hear a word," he said, his voice dropping into that strict lecture-like tone he used when defending a thesis. He reached up, his thumb and forefinger finding your nipple and giving it a sharp punishing pinch.
"Ah!~... Spencer!" you gasped, your eyes snapping open.
"Answer me," he commanded, his hazel eyes boring into yours with total authority. "Who do you belong to right now?"
"Yours," you whimpered, your breath coming in short panicked pants. "Yours Spencer... always yours.”
"Good girl," he growled, as a reward he leaned down and buried his face in your neck, sucking a deep dark mark into the skin right above your collarbone.
You let out a shaky breath and the moment his teeth grazed the mark, he started moving your hips again, even faster than before. The pace was relentless, his hands bruising your waist as he forced you to take the friction of his leg.
You were becoming louder, your moans echoing off the book lined walls of his apartment, a sharp contrast to the quiet academic life he led.
"Tell me how it feels," he said, his voice a low vibration against your skin. "Is the sensory input sufficient? Or do you need more?"
You tried to speak but all that came out was a soft needy whimper as the pleasure began to peak.
Again, he stopped you. He pinned your hips down, denying you the release that was just seconds away.
"I can't take that as an answer sweetheart," he teased, his hand moving up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over the tip he had just pinched. "Stop holding back and tell me what I want to hear... does it feel good having me this close?"
"It feels... it feels too good," you sobbed, reaching down to try and pull him back toward you. "Please Spencer… I’m so close... ahh!~... it’s perfect... don't stop."
"There she is," he whispered, rewarding you by leaning down and taking your nipple into his mouth again. He sucked harder this time, his tongue swirling around the peak as he started the rhythm again rougher this time.
The intense grinding of his thigh against you and the sharp heat of his mouth on your skin was completely overwhelming. You couldn't even think straight, let alone hold back.
You were screaming his name, your hands tangled in his brown hair, pulling him closer.
"Look at you," Spencer rasped, pulling back for a split second to catch his breath, his eyes dark and blown out, his hair completely wild. "Look at how desperate you are for me right now... absolutely begging for it.”
"Spencer... ah hah!~... please…” you sobbed, your back arching off the rug as he ground his leg upward again. "It feels... ngh!~... it feels too much!"
"It’s not enough," he countered, his voice a low hum. "Tell me, do you like how pathetic you look right now? With your blouse hanging off your arms and your legs wide open for me?"
"I love it... ahh!~... I fuckin love it Spencer!" You cried out, your nails scratching against his shoulders. "I've wanted... hahh!~... I've wanted you to see me like this for so long!"
"I know," he groaned, burying his face back into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. “You’re so beautiful when you’re desperate... so incredibly loud... you’re so close aren't you?"
"Yes!... Ahh!~... I'm so close!..."
Your voice was becoming a series of broken high pitched keens as the tension reached a snapping point. You were grinding your hips down onto his thigh with a frantic rhythmic energy, your eyes squeezed shut.
"That's it... give it all to me," he rasped, his own breathing coming in heavy ragged gasps as he felt the tremors starting to take over your body. "Show me how much you need this… cum for me, come on."
The friction hit that final jagged point of no return. You cried out, your entire body shuddering as the climax crashed over you, your muscles squeezing tight against his leg in a series of rhythmic helpless spasms.
"Good girl," Spencer groaned, his voice a deep vibrating rasp against your collarbone as he felt the heat of your release soaking into his trousers.
"Hngh~... Spencer..." you sobbed, your head falling against his shoulder, your fingers still locked in his hair as the waves of pleasure continued to pulse through you. "Was I... was I good for you..."
"The best," he whispered, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder as he left a deep dark mark there. "I think you’ve earned a real reward for this."
Spencer didn't stop moving you until the very last tremor subsided, his mouth never leaving your skin, marking you over and over again as his own.
"You're perfect... absolutely perfect," he murmured, his tone softening just a fraction as he gathered you up into his arms. He pulled you tight against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as he let you come down from the overwhelming high of the climax.
The silence that followed your climax was heavy, broken only by the sound of your frantic wet breaths and the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall that felt far too sensible for the state of the room.
Spencer looked down at his lap, a large dark patch of dampness having soaked completely through the fabric of his trousers where you had cum.
"Look at this," Spencer rasped, his voice dropping into a sharp feigned sternness that made your skin prickle. "Look at what a mess you made, a complete disaster sweetheart. You’ve completely ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers."
You let out a shaky breathless laugh as you reached up, your fingers trembling as you brushed a stray lock of brown hair from his forehead before trailing your hand slowly down to his lips.
"I’m so sorry Spencer," you whispered, your voice still thick with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "How can I possibly make it up to you?"
As you spoke, you ran your palm down the front of his trousers, centering it right over the massive pulsing bulge that was straining hard against his zipper. You felt him jump, a sharp low hiss of air escaping his teeth.
"Do you have something specific in mind?" Spencer asked, his voice cracking as he reached down, his hand wrapping around your wrist. He didn't pull you away, instead he squeezed tight and started moving your hand, forcing you to rub him harder. "Because this… this is a very serious problem we need to fix right now."
"I have a few ideas," you murmured, your breath hitching as you bit your lip, watching the way his usual composure was completely fraying at the edges.
Spencer didn't say a word, he simply gripped your waist and lifted you, shifting his weight until he was sitting back on the couch behind him. His legs spread wide as he looked at you, his chest heaving heavily, his tie hanging completely loose around his unbuttoned collar.
"Well?" He prompted, his voice a gravelly low command. "Will you be a good girl and get me out of these? It's getting way too tight in here."
You knelt between his legs, your knees sinking deep into the patterned rug. Your hands flew to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your haste. You were just as hungry as he was, your own body still humming with a shameless desperate need to see him lose that proper intellectual exterior completely.
You slid the zipper down, the sound incredibly loud in the quiet room and reached inside to free his throbbing hard cock from the suffocating fabric.
He was fully and agonizingly hard, the skin dark and flushed with a bead of precum already glistening at the tip.
"Don't just stare at it sweetheart," Spencer groaned, his head falling back. "I’ve spent all day thinking about exactly how your mouth would feel on me. Are you really going to keep me waiting?"
You leaned in, letting out your tongue to give the very tip a slow filthy lick, tasting the salt and the intense heat of him.
Spencer’s hand shot out, tangling deeply in your hair. He didn't pull you away, he gripped the back of your head, his knuckles turning white.
"None of that teasing," he growled, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Take it... all of it."
You chuckled, a low vibration against his skin, thoroughly amused by how quickly he was losing his patience.
"Yes Spencer," you whispered, your voice shaking as you looked up at him through your lashes, completely exposed beneath his gaze. "I'll be a good girl and do whatever you want."
"God... you're a menace," Spencer groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as he tilted your head back further. "Stop talking and prove it."
You opened your mouth and took him in, the heat of him filling you instantly. As your lips closed around his length, you let out a deep moan, the sound completely muffled by his throbbing shaft.
"Oh fuck… yes," Spencer breathed, his hips bucking up off the couch instinctively. "Just like that... such a focused little whore aren't you? So damn good."
He began to move his hand in your hair, guiding the rhythm of your head. He wasn't being gentle, he was directing you exactly how he wanted it, his movements rhythmic, demanding and intensely focused.
Every few seconds, just as you were getting into a perfect flow, he would yank you back by your hair, forcing you to pull away so he could look down into your dazed watery eyes.
"Tell me," he rasped, his voice a filthy whisper. "Is this exactly what you wanted? Answer me."
"Yes," you panted, your lips glistening in the dim lamplight. "Please Spencer… I want to make you feel good.”
"Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with unadulterated lust. "Such a talented mouth... I should have done this months ago."
He pushed you back down, deeper this time, his hips meeting your face with a rough needy force. He was taking his time, deliberately slowing his rhythm whenever he felt himself getting too close, determined to make it last as long as possible.
He would pull you away again, his long thumb rubbing over your bottom lip, dragging the moisture across your skin.
"Look at you... kneeling there like it’s your only purpose," Spencer rasped, his voice dropping into that dark heavy growl that made your stomach completely flip. "You’re so eager to please me aren't you? Just a helpless little thing who can’t wait to get her mouth on me.
The absolute intensity of his words hit you like a physical wave, the heat between your legs intensifying until you were practically vibrating against the floor. You leaned into his touch, your eyes blown wide and glassy.
"Yes... I’m yours Spencer... I want to be your little mess... please... just let me have more."
"Good girl," he hissed, his grip on your hair tightening for a brief sharp second before he guided you back down.
You opened your mouth wide, taking him back in with a needy wet sound. This time you were more confident, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock as you began to bob your head in a steady perfect pace.
You reached down, your hand wrapping tightly around the base of his shaft -the part your mouth couldn't reach- and began to stroke him in sync with your throat.
The combination was devastating for him. You could feel the lean muscles in his thighs jumping, his breath coming in jagged broken hitches as your hand and mouth worked together to milk every bit of sensation from his body.
You moved your head deeper, the back of your throat hitting the ridge of him as you hummed, a deep vibrating moan that echoed all the way through his core.
"God... ngh~..." Spencer groaned, his head falling back hard against the couch cushions. "You’re... you’re going to fuckin ruin me... such a... such a good little thing."
Just as he was reaching that edge of no return, he reached down and firmly pulled you back by your hair, forcing you to release him.
You let out a soft protestive whimper, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his glistening tip.
He leaned forward, his chest heaving as he brushed a stray lock of hair off your sweaty face with a surprisingly tender touch that contrasted sharply with the predatory darkness in his eyes. He let you take a few frantic gasping breaths, his intense gaze never leaving yours.
"Are you going to be a good girl and swallow every single drop for me?" He asked, his hazel eyes burning into yours with total possession. "I want to feel your throat swallowing it down… say it."
"I'll swallow it all," you whispered, leaning back in to take him again, your heart pounding. "I won't waste a single drop."
"Good... nghh!~... such a good obedient girl for me," Spencer groaned, his head falling back against the sofa cushions as his hips began to surge forward instinctively. "Fuck... your mouth... it’s so good sweetheart... nggh!~... right there... keep doing that."
He started to move with a sudden desperate hunger, his long hands guiding your head as he began to thrust his hips. Each movement was deep, purposeful and intense, he wanted to feel the very back of your throat and the tight wet heat of you surrounding him completely.
Spencer was no longer talking in full sentences, his vocabulary dissolving into broken guttural sounds of praise and raw demand.
"That’s... that's it... ahh hah~... t-take it all," he gasped, his voice a ragged broken thread. "I’m... hah~... I’m so close... don’t stop... fuck... your eyes... looking at me like that while... while you take me... so beautiful."
You let out a muffled moan, your hands moving to his thighs to steady yourself as you increased the suction, your tongue working frantically to keep up with his relentless pace.
"You’re... you’re going to… to be the absolute… death of me," Spencer choked out, his fingers digging into your hair as he finally broke.
His entire body went rigid, his lean muscles straining as he delivered several deep pulsing thrusts into your mouth, filling you with every drop of the release he had promised.
You stayed true to your word, your throat working rhythmically as you swallowed every drop of him, the intense heat of his release filling you up completely.
When he finally slumped back against the couch, you didn't pull away immediately. You pulled back just enough to look at him then leaned in to pepper his cock with gentle small kisses, starting from the base and working your way back to the tip.
"Beautiful," Spencer whispered, his hand resting softly on your head now, his voice full of a warm profound affection. "Absolutely incredible sweetheart. I think... I think we might have to do this every night."
Before the haze could even begin to clear from your head, his long hands were under your arms, hauling you up from the rug with surprising effortless strength and placing you onto the cushions of his couch.
You landed with a soft huff, your hair splayed out wildly against the fabric. You looked up at him with wide blown out eyes, your chest still heaving, your lips swollen and glistening from the effort of pleasing him.
Spencer leaned over you but instead of the harsh demand from moments before, he reached down and took your hand in his. He brought your knuckles to his lips, lingering there with a soft reverent kiss that sent a completely different kind of shiver down your spine.
“Look at you," he murmured, his voice a low warm hum of pure appreciation. "Absolutely breathtaking... you did a perfect job for me... truly incredible."
"Do you have any idea how many times I’ve sat at my desk, watching you walk across the room, imagining exactly this?" Spencer murmured against your skin, his voice dropping into a soft hum as he pressed a warm kiss just beneath your jaw.
He moved up slowly, his hands coming up to gently frame your face, his thumbs wiping away the flush on your cheeks before his mouth met yours in a soft deeply tender kiss.
There was no rush now, he just held you close, parting his lips to deepen the kiss with a slow sweet warmth that made your chest ache with affection.
You let out a soft breathy moan into his mouth, your hands tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck to pull him even closer. The heat between you was gentle and completely enveloping, making you feel entirely safe and cherished in his arms.
When he finally broke the kiss, he didn't pull away, his forehead resting lightly against yours so you could share the same warm breath. He looked down at you with a soft, incredibly sweet smile, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with pure adoration.
"Look at you," he whispered, his thumb gently smoothing over your bottom lip, which was soft and glistening from his kisses. "You are so perfect for me... I'm the luckiest man alive just getting to hold you like this.”
"You're... you're making me lose my mind Spencer," you breathed, your voice breaking into a needy whimper as your hands clutched at his forearms, trying to pull his weight back down toward you. "Please... I don't want to think... I need you so bad... please..."
Hearing your plea, the soft smile faded from Spencer's lips, replaced by a sudden sharp intake of breath.
You could feel the exact moment his gentle restraint snapped, his grip on your forearms tightened, his chest heaving heavily against yours as a wave of pure unfiltered desperation took over his features.
"You're killing me," he gasped out, his voice cracking slightly as he buried his face back into the crook of your neck, his kisses became fast, hot and breathless, trailing frantically up your jawline as if he couldn't get close enough to you. "I can't be gentle, I try... but I need to be closer... I need all of you right now.”
He began to trail hot wet demanding kisses down your body, his breath hot against your stomach as your clothes were slowly being undone.
He dropped to the floor, kneeling between your legs. With a swift efficient movement, he reached out and stripped you of your skirt and underwear, tossing them carelessly onto the floor.
He started at your inner thighs, peppering desperate open mouthed kisses all over the sensitive skin. He bit you, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to leave a stinging heat that made your toes curl into the cushions.
"You’re so responsive aren't you?" He chuckled, a dark low sound that vibrated intensely against your inner thigh. "So eager to be fucked."
He leaned in, his tongue darting out to lap up the evidence of your previous orgasm, his movements slow, deliberate and thorough as he ran his tongue along your folds, exploring every inch of you with an intense obsessive focus.
You moaned louder, your hips beginning to move involuntarily as the pleasure started to build again, faster than before.
Suddenly Spencer pulled back, he looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the living room.
"Listen to me very carefully," he commanded, his voice sharp and utterly unyielding. "If I ever ask you a question, if I ever demand an answer and you don't give it to me immediately, I will stop, I will pull back and I will leave you exactly like this. Do you understand?"
"Yes!... hahh~... yes please Spencer... just don't stop," you cried out, your hands reaching down for his shoulders.
"Good girl," he whispered, a dark satisfied smirk crossing his face. "Such a perfect obedient toy for me."
He leaned back down, his focus entirely consumed by the heat between your thighs. His tongue found your center with a desperate heavy intensity, tracing your folds with long deliberate strokes before centering his attention right where you needed it most.
The steady relentless friction was overwhelming, driving you crazy as your hips began to lift off the cushions instinctively.
Just as the sensation reached a fever pitch and you felt like you couldn't handle another second, Spencer shifted his weight. He let out a low groan against your skin, sliding two long fingers smoothly inside your tight heat.
The sudden deep stretch of him filling you after so much teasing made your breath leave you in a long broken scream, your fingers locking tightly into his hair as your body tried to adjust to the new fullness.
"You're so tight sweetheart," he rasped, his voice muffled by your heat as he began to hook his fingers upward, finding the sensitive spot inside you with exact precision. "Is this where you want me to touch? You're absolutely desperate for this aren't you?"
He began to apply a rhythmic heavy pressure, his knuckles rubbing against you in a firm merciless motion that sent white hot sparks behind your eyelids. Every time his fingers hit that exact spot, your hips jerked off the couch instinctively, trying to impale yourself further on his hand.
"Spencer!... Yes!... Ah-hahh!~... right there!... It... it feels so good!" You sobbed, your fingers digging into the fabric of the couch until your nails threatened to rip the leather. "Please... don't stop... I'm going to cum... Ahhh!..."
"I'm not stopping," he growled, increasing the speed of his fingers, his thumb coming down to pin your clit with a bruising force that matched the internal pounding. "I want to feel exactly how you fall apart when I use you like that."
You felt your internal muscles clenching tightly around his fingers, trying to milk him while your body finally betrayed every single ounce of restraint you had left.
You let out a high broken scream that echoed through the room, your back arching so sharply that only your heels and shoulders touched the couch cushions. You were shaking uncontrollably, your internal muscles spasming in tight rhythmic waves around his fingers as a second even more violent climax ripped entirely through you.
Spencer didn't pull away, he kept his fingers buried deep, mimicking the intense pulsing of your release and let out a low dark chuckle that vibrated heavily against your sensitive skin.
"Look at that," he rasped, pulling his face back just enough to observe the way your thighs were still uncontrollably twitching. "All that polite talk before and here you are... sobbing and leaking all over my furniture like a broken toy. You really are an incredibly desperate little thing aren't you?"
"Yes... ahh-hah!~..." You sobbed, your eyes rolling back as the aftershocks continued to roll through you. You felt completely exposed, your face burning with a mix of vulnerability and intense lingering heat. "I'm... I'm your toy Spencer... please... I can't even move..."
"Good," he smirked, his hazel eyes tracking the frantic way your chest heaved. "I didn't give you permission to move… I am not even close to being done with you.”
"Spencer... ah haah!~... please," you sobbed, your hands reaching out blindly to find his broad shoulders, your voice a thin, shaky thread of desperation. "I'm already... I'm so sens-... AH!... SPENCER!"
He didn't let you finish, before the word " sensitive” could fully leave your lips, he dived back down, his tongue flickering against your swollen pulsing clit with sudden sharp precision.
He was entirely relentless as he began to suck your sensitive clit into his mouth, creating a tight rhythmic vacuum that made your vision go entirely white.
His tongue was a firm muscular weight pushing against you, flickering over the most sensitive nerve endings with a dizzying speed.
Every single time you tried to pull away from the overwhelming agonizing intensity, his long hands clamped down on your hips like iron bands, pinning you in place so you had to endure every single flicker and swirl.
"Ngh-hah!~... Please!" You begged him, your head thrashing from side to side against the fabric. “Spencer!... It hurts…”
He completely ignored your pleas, his tongue flat and heavy as he licked upward then used the very tip to circle the center of your heat in a way that felt like he was carving his name directly into your skin. You were a shivering sobbing mess beneath him, your body completely at the mercy of his mouth.
"Tell me how it feels," he prompted, his voice a muffled vibration against your soaked skin.
You were entirely lost, your head thrashing against the cushions. "It... it feels incredible!... nghh~... Please... harder!"
"Harder? Is that an order sweetheart?" He stopped for a fraction of a second, his teeth grazing your inner thigh in a sharp punishing bite. "I don't take orders here, I set the rules. Now tell me exactly how it feels."
"I... ahhh~... I love it!" You screamed, your hips grinding down onto his mouth with a frantic uncoordinated desperation. "It feels... ngh~... so good... Fuck!... Please Spencer... ahh~... please... don't stop!... I'm so close again!... I’m begging you!"
He didn't give you another second to breathe. Driven over the edge by your begging, he dived back in with a dizzying rhythmic speed. He focused entirely on the sensitive peak of your heat, his strokes becoming faster and more relentless until the sheer intensity of the friction made your vision fragment into white spots.
"Good girl," he murmured, his tongue sweeping over you again in a long devastating stroke. "And do you like being worked over like this? Are you about to cum for me again?"
"Yes!... Ahhh!~... I'm right there!... hnghh~... Spencer... please! It's too much... ahh~... I'm going to... I'm close!... Please!"
He didn't need another word, he doubled his efforts, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers pushing into you with a rough demanding pace.
Every time you tried to close your legs, he shoved them wider, pinning your knees back with his shoulders so he had a completely unobstructed view of how he was ruining you.
"Keep them open sweetheart," he growled, his voice a dark vibrating rasp against your soaking skin. "Tell me... who owns this mess? Who are you begging for right now?"
"Spencer... ahh-haah~... please!" You sobbed, your head thrashing against the cushions.
He stopped instantly, the sudden lack of friction was a physical blow, leaving you suspended on a jagged agonizing edge.
"I don't like when you don't answer me," he hissed, his eyes dark, intense and focused as he looked up at you. "I asked you a question. Who owns you?"
"You!.. hngh~... you do!" You screamed, your hips bucking upward in a desperate frantic search for his mouth.
"Good girl," he murmured, diving back in with a punishing heavy lick that made you let out a strangled scream. He was relentless, his tongue swirling around your clit while his fingers hammered into you, hitting your g-spot with every thrust.
The overstimulation reached a fever pitch. Your vision went blurry, white spots dancing behind your eyelids as a new, even more violent wave of pleasure began to swell. You were grinding your teeth, your voice reduced to a high continuous keen that echoed off the walls of his flat.
"Spencer!... I'm... Ahh!~... I’m cumming!... I’m... ngh~... I’m cumming!" You cried out, the tears finally spilling over as the sheer intensity of his tongue became too much to bear.
You weren't just sobbing, you were frantic. Your hands locked onto the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pushed him even deeper against your heat.
You were begging for mercy and demanding more all at once, your heels digging into his shoulders as you tried to consume his entire mouth.
"That's it... that's my girl," Spencer whispered, his dirty talk a constant filthy hum against your folds. "Look at how much you're leaking for me. You're so loud sweetheart... you're so beautifully, shamelessly loud."
Spencer didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed between your trembling thighs, his tongue moving in slow rhythmic laps to collect every bit of the slick sweet evidence of your release.
Even as you sobbed and shook, he kept his mouth right there, drinking you in, his tongue never wavering until the very last twitch of your muscles subsided.
"Spencer... it's... it’s too much!" you pleaded, your fingers locking into his hair as you tried to pull him closer and push him away all at once, your body completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the release.
"You’ve been a very, very good girl," he praised, giving your center one final lingering kiss that made your hips twitch helplessly.
He stood up then, the transition from the lanky academic to this predatory dominant force was absolutely intoxicating. He didn't break eye contact as he stripped off his shirt, the fabric fluttering to the floor to join the scattered papers.
He looked entirely energized, his eyes bright with a lingering deep hunger that made your heart hammer violently against your ribs.
He hovered over you again, the heat radiating off his body was completely overwhelming. He braced his long arms on either side of your head, his shadow swallowing you whole on the couch.
"You're doing so well for me sweetheart," he whispered, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing open mouthed kiss. "But we aren't quite finished yet are we? I still have so much more to show you."
"S-Spencer... wait... haah!"
You let out a sharp gasp as he reached down, his long hands hooking under your knees and lifting your thighs until they were wrapped tightly around his waist. The position was incredibly vulnerable and open, leaving you completely at his mercy.
He leaned in, peppering your neck with hot biting kisses, his breath hitching sharply against your skin.
"Be a good girl for me," he rasped, his voice cutting through the quiet room. "Do what I tell you."
Without another word of warning, he aligned himself and pushed his pulsing cock deep inside you in one deep unyielding thrust.
"AAAAHH!... Spencer!... Fuck!"
The scream ripped entirely from your throat as you felt the sheer size of him filling and stretching you open. It was too much and too fast, your head thrashed against the cushions as your body desperately tried to adjust to the sudden heavy intrusion.
"Shhh," Spencer groaned, his own voice breaking as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "Just take it... take all of it... Fuck, you’re so tight... so perfect for me."
He didn't give you a single second to catch your breath as he began to move, his hips hitting yours with a heavy rhythmic thud against the couch. He was entirely relentless, his pace fast, demanding and consuming. His hands dug into your hips to hold you completely steady as he drove himself deep.
"Don't fuckin move," he commanded, his voice a low gravelly vibration against your ear. "Tell me you'll be good... tell me you'll take every inch of me."
"I... I will!... Ah-hah!~... Spencer... please... nghh~... it’s so deep!" You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him closer as your body started to find the rhythm, your senses beginning to sing under the weight of his. "Ahh!~... yes!... Right there!"
"That's it... scream my name," Spencer encouraged, his movements becoming more frantic and more desperate, his quiet facade completely melting into raw guttural grunts of pleasure. "Tell me how it feels to have me inside you like this."
"It feels... hhah~... feels so good!" You sobbed, your voice breaking into a high needy keen as you pulled his face down to yours. You kissed him with a frantic messy hunger, your tongues tangling as you tasted the salt of his skin and the heat of his frantic breath.
Your moans were completely muffled against his lips, vibrating through both of your bodies as he hit that perfect sensitive spot deep inside you with every heavy rhythmic thud of his hips.
You were clinging to him like he was your only lifeline, your nails digging into his back as you tried to pull him even deeper, your body trembling under the sheer weight of his dominance.
"Good girl baby," Spencer groaned, his voice dropping into a lethal low register that sent a fresh jolt of electricity to your core. "Show me how much you need this... cum for me again, come on."
The friction was building rapidly, a white hot tension that threatened to shatter your composure again.
Spencer was still entirely energized, his stamina seemingly endless as he kept up the punishing deep pace, his chest heaving heavily against yours.
"I’m going to... ahh~... I’m going to cum... ngh!~... Spencer! I’m going to... Ah-hah!~..."
"Stay with me," he gasped, his long fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back to look directly into your eyes. "Me too… fuck, me too baby!... Look at me... look at what you're doing to me."
He redoubled his efforts, his thrusts becoming shallower but incredibly fast, his hips grinding into yours with a frantic desperate energy.
You were both intensely loud, the small living room filled with the sounds of your joined ragged breaths and the wet rhythmic slaps of skin on skin.
"Spencer!... Ah-hah!~... Ngh~... now!... Ahh!~..."
"God... yes!... Hngh!~... Now baby!"
The snap came simultaneously, you let out a long piercing cry as the climax crashed over you, your internal muscles pulsing and clamping down on his length in a series of agonizingly beautiful spasms.
Spencer let out a deep guttural roar, his lean body going completely rigid as he drove himself into you one last time, pinning you firmly to the couch as he came deep inside you.
The sheer force of his release sent a final blinding wave of pleasure through your system, leaving you both trembling violently in the heavy aftermath.
He didn't pull back, he kept moving, his hips still bucking with a lingering desperate need to ensure every drop of his heat was buried deep within you, his weight grounding you completely into the plush fabric of the sofa.
You were both completely spent, your lungs burning as you fought for air, but despite the heavy exhaustion pinning your limbs down, you reached up. Your fingers shaking as you tangled them into the damp messy hair at the nape of his neck, you pulled him down with a weak needy whimper, seeking his mouth one more time.
The kiss was slow, messy and filled with the salt of your shared sweat, a quiet desperate acknowledgment of the absolute madness you had just shared.
You moaned softly into his mouth, a broken breathless sound of pure contentment as he kissed you back with a lingering protective hunger that was far softer than the man who had been breaking your composure only moments ago.
The silence of the apartment was broken only by the frantic thumping of your hearts beating in perfect sync against each other's chests.
"Incredible," he panted, a dark exhausted smirk finally touching his lips as he looked down at you. "Absolutely incredible sweetheart."
He moved with a sudden protective strength, pulling out of you with a soft sigh before gathering you up securely in his arms. He held you tight against his chest, shifting your weights so you were resting comfortably together on the couch.
"You’re okay baby?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a low comforting vibration that rumbled directly against your ear. "I’ve got you, just breathe for me."
You gave a small weak nod against his chest, your muscles feeling like lead. "Yeah..." you managed to whisper, your voice sounding far away and heavy with exhaustion as you leaned more into his chest, seeking the steady grounding thrum of his heart.
"There she is," he whispered, his voice returning to that soft melodic lilt but with a completely new raw layer of affection. "Such a good girl, you did so well for me sweetheart... absolutely perfect."
He reached up to caress your damp hair, smoothing the stray locks away from your face with a tenderness that made it hard to remember the dominant force from moments ago.
He tilted his head down, pressing a soft lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm and dry against your skin.
“I know I was hard on you. I know I pushed your limits so far... but look at how beautiful you look… you’re such a good girl... my perfect pretty girl."
He pressed another kiss to the corner of your eye, catching a stray tear of overstimulation with his thumb.
After some time, your eyes fluttered open and you looked down at the floor. The case files were truly a disaster, scattered and forgotten after your night together.
"Ready to take a shower and get some sleep?” Spencer whispered against your hair. " I think we really need one right now."
"Yes please," you breathed.
He lifted you easily, carrying your spent frame down the hall to the bathroom.
In the shower, Spencer was incredibly gentle with you. He held you tight against his chest under the warm water, letting the spray sluice between your bodies.
His touch was slow and reverent, keeping you feeling completely safe and cherished even as your eyes traced the lean lines of his chest through the heavy steam.
Once you were clean and warm, he stepped out to grab a towel, drying you off with the same careful meticulous attention he gave to everything else. He walked you to the bedroom and went to his wardrobe and pulled out one of his soft shirts, pulling it over your frame until it hung halfway down your thighs.
He threw on a shirt and a pair of simple lounge pants himself, looking much more like the quiet academic again, though the dark marks on his neck told a completely different story.
"You look so good in my clothes," he rasped, his eyes darkening with a fresh quiet heat. “I might never let you wear your own clothes in this apartment again.”
He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft lingering kiss that tasted of him.
You felt a flutter in your chest, your hands reaching up to weakly grasp the fabric of his shirt as you melted against his lean frame. You let out a small shaky breath against his lips, a tired but happy smile tugging at your mouth as you tucked your head under his chin.
He led you into the bed, the sheets cool and inviting. You collapsed into them, resting your head securely on his shoulder the moment he climbed in beside you, the sheer weight of the day and the night finally catching up to you.
"Spencer?" You asked, your voice trailing off into a yawn as you looked at him. "What is Hotch going to do when we show up at the round table with case files that aren't finished?"
Spencer pulled the heavy duvet up over both of you, tucking you firmly into his side. He let out a soft sleepy huff of a laugh and kissed your temple.
"That my love is a problem for future us," he murmured, his arms wrapping tightly around you. "And I suspect the rest of the team will be far too distracted by the timeline anomalies to look too closely at the state of the paperwork."
He tightened his hold on you, pulling you completely flush against his side. "Good night sweetheart."
You didn't answer, the rhythmic steady thrum of his heartbeat had already lulled your mind into a deep heavy sleep.
Spencer stayed awake for just a moment longer, looking down at your peaceful face with a look of pure quiet worship before he hugged you tighter, falling asleep with you safe, warm and entirely possessed between his arms.