That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fanfiction 1/?
Inspiration: Katy Perry’s Song “The One That Got Away”
Rating: Mature Setting: Season 4 Featuring: Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader
A/N: I am loving all the requests and song inspired fics out there. Please let me know what you all think! Warnings: Loss of a parent (the reader is a victim’s daughter), teenage angst and sexual awakenings. I do not own any of the characters or lyrics. Enjoy the fluff, stay for the smut, sorry for the tears. xoxo Stu
Gif credit: Ashheart on the Wikia
You hadn’t been home to visit your dad since last summer, having taken your students to Bulgaria to study the ancient city of Mesembria over your January term. His sprawling driveway was cleared and inviting, despite the wind that had followed you from the airport. You entered the security code on the side gate, your low heels clicking on the decorative stone walkway. The entry way to the kitchen was floor to ceiling glass doors that sparkled in the morning sun. You glance inside, expecting to see your dad tinkering with his espresso machine, or maybe making a smoothie with the juicer you got him one Fathers’ Day, after he declared he was going to lose some weight that summer.
Instead, you see an empty room, the sunlight barely penetrating the stone walls. You cautiously step through the door, keeping your left hand on the brass handle. “Dad? Are you there?”
Silence answers. You drop your bag on the table, your footfalls echoing through the cavernous room. You check your phone, verifying that your Dad hadn’t left you a message while your were in airplane mode. No calls or texts. You went around the counter and through the main hall of the house. Now panic was holding your stomach hostage, gripping your insides the further you ventured in to the unlit house.
“Dad! I know you are not asleep, where are you?” You ditch your heels and climb the winding staircase up towards the bedrooms and offices. You found him at his desk, papers on every inch of the wooden surface. His head down, you thought he was correcting papers, or absorbed in a new research endeavor. When you take a step closer, you see the pool of blood around the rollers of the chair’s feet. You scream.
Derek Morgan was on the fourth mile on his course around Locust Shade Park when the case came through. He grudgingly huffed it back to his car, hoping he could get a shower in at the locker room before making it to the conference room. The drive to the office was quick, Agent Morgan scanned the parking lot for his fellow BAU members’ vehicles. Smirking as he found that Hotch’s and JJ’s cars were the only ones in parking spaces.
After a refreshingly hot shower, Derek secured his locker throwing his ‘GO BAG’ over his shoulder, to take it with to the case briefing. He passed through the bullpen nodding to Reid and Prentiss, both nursing fresh coffees. “Any word on the case?” Derek asks in passing.
“Something about Pasadena,” Prentiss answered noncommittally.
“Pasadena?” Reid asked alerted.
“What’s up pretty boy?” Morgan asked, surprised at the younger man’s alarm.
“Cal Tech is in Pasadena, Morgan.” Prentiss answered, leading the guys to the conference room.
“Right, so you going to dial up your old honeys once we get our unsub?” Morgan teased.
Luckily for Reid, the team was assembled and JJ was set to deliver the case. On the evidence screen a wizened face was peering back at the agents. Reid fumbled in his seat.
“Professor Graham Y/L/N was found dead in his Pasadena estate this morning. C.O.D is blood loss from being stabbed by an unknown object, numerous times.” JJ began.
“Who found Dr. Y/L/N?” Reid asked before Hotch could get a word in.
JJ glanced down at her notes. “His daughter Y/N, was visiting over spring break from Columbia.”
“Is she okay?” Reid followed, which gave everyone around the table pause.
“Reid, I am guessing she is pretty shaken up. But she is cooperating with the investigation, so chances are you can ask her yourself.” Hotch stood, attempting to steer the focus back to the case. “What is this about?”
Reid was pale, even more so than usual. He cleared his throat and looked down at the file put in front of him. He closed the folder and squinted his eyes closed for a moment. “Um, you see, Dr. Y/L/N was my first graduate school advisor while at Cal Tech. He is, well, was a very good man.”
“Reid, I am so sorry.” Emily Prentiss cooed at the grieving genius.
“It’s alright,” Reid sniffed, but his eyes remained clear.”Let’s just get the unsub.”
“Wheels up in 20, it is a long flight.” Hotch added quietly.
*
You sat in the police station fidgeting. The recycled air, chilled your already shaken frame. The detectives had asked you questions on and off for what seemed like years. You had your carry on bag with you, since it held some exams you wanted to read over. Your eyes continuously lost focus on the size 12 font, double spaced pages. You didn’t want to think about what you looked like to the other people in that crammed hall near the front doors of the station.
Rising, you approached the reception counter. You then left a note for the lead Detective, reminding him of your cell number and that you just went out for a quick bite. It had been six hours since you had made it home, 5 hours and 52 minutes since you became an orphan. Well, technically it had been nearing twelve hours since you had become an orphan, but it was 5 hours and 52 minutes since you knew you were one. Even inside your head, you rambled. One of those eccentric things you got from your dad, the socially awkward professor. Your heart tore just a little more.
*
He was sixteen when he first saw you. You were seventeen, fresh from graduating from your prep school out of state. Spencer had been invited over for dinner at Dr. Y/L/N’s house after a long day as a TA. He knew the professor’s daughter was home, he was just surprised that she would look like this.
At 16, Spencer had finally grown enough to not get stares from students and faculty around campus. His intelligent eyes and thin frame were agile in avoiding direct eye contact and much physical interaction from his academic peers. He purposely dressed like the professors, which actually made him look younger. He came off as a young man in a school uniform, instead of the scholar he was. He was animatedly speaking with Dr. Y/L/N, who had given him a ride, then suddenly there was a girl in the driveway.
Her long Y/H/C locks, were thrown up in a messy bun. Her legs were bare, save for the ragged denim cut offs she wore. Spencer stared, he was frozen in place in the passenger seat of your dad’s Volkswagen. He would never forget your smile that day, even if he didn’t have an eidetic memory.
*snap snap*
Agent Morgan had shaken Spencer out of his memories.
“So you were pretty close with this guy, huh?” Derek prodded.
“He was a good friend.” Spencer nodded.
“Do you know his daughter, Y/N well?” Derek asked over his file folder.
“We’ve met, “ Spencer added, “I was taken under Graham’s wing, being such a young candidate, he was very fatherly toward me.”
“So you had a sibling-like relationship with his daughter?” Derek mused, surprised that he hadn’t heard of you before.
“What? No, “ Spencer flustered, “She was in private school when I started working with Dr. Y/L/N, she was only home for the summers.”
“Awwww, we have a princess on our hands,” Morgan assumed.
“If you know many princesses who speak four languages and can recited the Odyssey and Illiad from memory,” Spencer snipped at Derek under his breath. “But she was her father’s whole world, so in that way I suppose you are correct.”
Derek looked over at JJ and Prentiss, his eyebrows raised. The women stifled their laughter in their coffees. He decided to let this reunion pan out before prodding Reid for anymore details.
*
You strolled back to the precinct with a mountain of whipped cream in a cup, pretending to yourself that this sugary monstrosity was actually coffee. You couldn’t stomach the salad you had ordered for your afternoon meal, but you could stomach some comfort calories from the corner cafe. You knew the FBI was aiding in the investigation of your father’s murder, so you mentally prepared yourself for another battery of questioning.
Your cell chirped at you, it was Detective Chang, “Dr. Y/L/N,” you answered habitually.
“The FBI’s BAU is here, if we could go over it with you again, we really appreciate it.” The gruff man informed you.
“Of course, Detective, I will be right in,” You answered, closing your phone with a satisfactory snap. You sniff and pull your chin up, your professor face was on.
*
Spencer was squirrelly, he could not sit still. He had bumped into JJ, twice since entering the Pasadena precinct and spilled Prentiss’ coffee while rearranging files. Hotch was at a loss. Rossi and Morgan were in fits. Once the evidence photos were up, everyone grew more sober and focused on the details of the case. Professor Y/L/N was a world-renowned scholar, he had been published in numerous journals annually since receiving his doctorate. He was a widow and lived in a large home alone, but there was no signs of forced entry or robbery.
The reason the BAU had been called in was because he had received a suspicious letter a month prior to being killed. Dr. Olivia Madison, his research partner had told the Pasadena PD. That coupled with the international influence of the victim, they wanted to ensure they utilized every resource.
A knock on the borrowed office’s door, signaled Detective Chang, “The victim’s daughter is back, whenever you are ready.”
Hotch looked around. “Alright, Reid, I am going to let you in there, but Rossi is going to be there to keep you focused.”
Reid nodded, wiping his clammy hands on his trousers. “Got it, Hotch”.
Rossi held the door open for the young ball of nerves, making eye contact with Hotch a cross the room.
“Do you think that was a good idea, letting him into her questioning like that?” Prentiss asked Hotch brassily.
“Was there anyway I could have stopped him?” Hotch countered.
“Hotch, we have a meeting with the President of Cal Tech in ten minutes.” JJ informed the unit chief.
That left Morgan and Prentiss to establish a timeline, build a geographic profile and continue to question anyone in Y/L/N’s department.
*
You absentmindedly played with your hair, the room was so stuffy. You pictured frescoes on the stone walls instead of layers of primer and acrylic. The grating opening of the door spun you in your seat. Suddenly your jaw became unattached from your skull. Spencer Reid stood before you, all cheek bones and long legs.
“Sir Sir!” You sang, leaping to your feet to tackle the thin genius. He had grown since you had seen him last, he rocks with your embrace. “What are you doing here?” You demanded, pulling back from him, but keeping his sides in your hands, you barely felt his ribs through his layers of clothes.
“Well, actually, I am with the FBI.” Spencer cleared his throat. “How are you doing, Y/N/N?” His big heart pouring through his eyes.
You retreat slightly, knowing you are being observed by his partner and whomever was on the other side of the faux mirror. Nodding, “As good as can be expected.”
Rossi holds out his hand to you, “Miss, it is nice to meet you, I am SSA Rossi with the BAU.”
You look over at the older agent, shaking his hand firmly, “Actually, its Doctor.” In the corner of your eye you can see Spencer smirk.
“Well, of course, Doctor.” Rossi continues, sitting opposite you. “What can you tell us about your father’s house when you arrived this morning?”
*
In another life, I would be your girl We keep all our promises, be us against the world In another life, I would make you stay So I don’t have to say you were the one that got away The one that got away
Spencer had brought some books over for you, he knew you got bored being stuck hundreds of miles away from your friends. He was awkwardly perched on your desk chair while you rummaged through your bedroom floor for the cd you had promised to lend him. You knew he wasn’t interested in the Sub Pop label, but he understood you were making good on trading things you were passionate about.
You threw a bra across the room and watched his eyes fly to the ceiling. You were jazzed, a college guy was in your bedroom. Even if he was technically younger than you were, he had all sorts of knowledge your classmates didn’t have yet. “So, what are you going to do today?”
“I have to go home and help my mom,” Spencer answered, his hands tucked between his bony knees. He had glasses and a navy polo shirt on. You really wanted him to stay, to go swimming, anything really.
“Can I come?” You offered, handing him the cd case. “I am super helpful and it would get me out of my house for the day.” You bumbled.
Spencer stared back at you like you had told him you wanted to rob a bank. “You can’t!” He exclaimed, in your mind’s eye you see it as embarrassment, but then you thought he was disgusted by you being in his house.
“Oh, okay,” You flop down on your bed. “Thanks for the books, Sir-sir.” You sit up, leaning back on your elbows. “Same time next week?”
He nods, spinning the cd case in his long fingers. “I will call you when I can come over again.” Spencer leaves you to mope in your room, closing the door behind him.
*
“The Dean was extremely cooperative, Garcia.” Hotch spoke in a rush, “Find out what it was Y/L/N was working on this semester. The unsub is definitely connected to academia.”
“Sir, its all theory. I can understand it, but Reid is going to have to interpret the application of the other doctor’s research for the team.” Garcia explained.
“Okay, send it over, I will put him on it.” Hotch agreed.
“How’s he taking it so far, being back and all?” Garcia pressed, usually not something she did with the boss.
“He’s Reid, Garcia, keep digging.” Hotch ended the call.
JJ knew the professor was well liked, she just didn’t expect as many students to be harping for answers as the press. She kept busy, awaiting the profile.
*
After your recounting your ordeal for the umpteenth time, you were given the green light to leave. Spencer and you had exchanged numbers, this gave you a mix of emotions. You were oddly looking forward to catching up with your high school crush, but rationally you hoped he would be extremely busy finding your father’s killer. You could not go back to your dad’s because for one, it was a crime scene and two, you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle being alone there quite yet. You checked into the nearest hotel and decided to call Olivia, to see how she was holding up. Surprisingly you hadn’t seen her at the station earlier.
You got settled into the posh hotel room, running your bare feet over the intricate softness of the wall to wall carpeting. After a long bath, clearing the airports and the interrogation rooms off of you, you checked your cell. Sir-sir had texted you. You shake your head at your silly nickname for him; it was derived from the second syllable of Spen-cer and his initials of S.R. You cannot believe you used it in public like that, you blush to yourself, checking the message.
‘I hope you get some rest. We are presenting the profile to the locals. We will keep you posted, when we can. -S
His complete sentences make you smile, of course he wouldn’t abbreviate to make the process quicker.
‘Thank you, Spencer. I know you will be outstanding as always.’ You responded. You try Olivia’s number, not sure if you had her cell or her office number saved into your phone. You left a message, with your hotel and your cell number. Exhausted, you got out of the hotel’s robe and into a cami and some boy shorts. You let your body melt into the softness of the abundant pillows on the king size bed, you are asleep before you know it.
*
JJ held a press conference on the steps of one of the Math buildings at Cal Tech after the BAU had delivered the profile to the locals. They had established a tip line, knowing that the unsub was watching the news closely. Morgan and Prentiss had finished interviewing for the day, heading back to grab some subs for the team to refuel at the precinct.
Hotch, Reid and Rossi had headed over to Dr. Y/L/N’s house for further investigation. Spencer, in the backseat, gave direction through the winding streets of the esteemed neighborhood to Hotch, who was driving the SUV.
The three agents approached the house as Y/N had described entering. The whole property was guarded by locals. The agents were pleased to see the overly-concerned neighbors had dispersed by the time they arrived. The key pad was still active, Rossi typed in the code Y/N had shared with the team. Spencer recognized your birthday, perhaps not the safest of security codes.
“Garcia,” Hotch had her on speaker phone.
“Listening, sir,” the bubbly tech analyst replied.
“Have you accessed the security system on the gate at the Y/L/N residence?” Hotch queried.
“Sir, of course, I have!” Garcia scolded. “What would you like to know?”
“When was the gate accessed over the past 36 hours?” Hotch continued.
“This morning, numerous times after the initial 911 call, that would be the locals and such.” Garcia summarized as she scanned her results. “Y/N got there just after 7:30 am West Coast time. Before that, it was opened from the inside at 4:16 am.”
“That must be our unsub,” Rossi noted.
“Time of death is roughly 1 o’clock, what was he doing for all that time?” Spencer interjected.
As the men entered the large stone kitchen, Spencer spotted the small luggage left atop the long tabletop.
“Hey Hotch, is it alright if I put this in the SUV?” Spencer asked, showing his chief the tag label.
“Double check that CSI have swept it for evidence first,” Hotch nodded.
Spencer grabbed the charcoal bag and headed back outside. Rossi watched the brown haired doctor, ensuring he was out of earshot. “The kid should sit this one out, Hotch.”
Hotch watched Rossi and nodded. “I will talk to him. In the morning he can work the research and stay out of the field.”
“Do you think he will listen?” Rossi prodded.
“He’ll have to,” Hotch answered determinedly. “Frankly, he deserves to see this one through to the end.”
“I know, Hotch,” Rossi agreed.”This just might be too much.”
“Let’s head upstairs,” Hotch said, “We can work backwards if we need to.”
*
The following summer you were driving home in your low cut cords and your Johnny Cash tee shirt. You had survived your freshman year of college. You were excited to be home, you had missed your dad more than you thought possible, even after years of formal private education. College had called for much more responsibility, less regulation and granted so much freedom. Spencer and you had written letters back and forth, but you couldn’t remember who had written who last.
You pulled into your driveway in the over-stuffed hand-me-down Volkswagen. Waiting for you was your graying father and a very gawky looking TA. “Why would Dad make a newbie wait for me too?” You thought to yourself. Getting out of the drivers’ side, you ran into your father’s outstretched arms. His Old Spice aftershave, filling you with comfort.
“Welcome back, Y/N/N,” a familiar voice sounded behind you.
“Spencer?!” You asked incredulously.
The bookworm you had a tumultuous friendship with the previous summer had changed. He had his hair shaved on the sides, had upgraded to contact lenses and he seemed even taller. You realized that he was now even a doctor.
“Wow, look at you!” You didn’t mean to sound rude, but he had changed so much.
“Please, don’t,” Spencer begged, dragging his hand through his hair, nervously. “It is really nice to see you.”
“You too!” You blushed, looking back to your father. “So, Dad, what’s for dinner?”
*
The BAU had reconvened for dinner. The office in the back of the precinct was suddenly quiet as the exhausted team re-nourished.
“Morgan, I am going to send you with Rossi to the M.E. tomorrow.” Hotch said breaking the silence.
“O-kay?” Morgan responded skeptically.
“Reid, I want you here,” Hotch continued. “You should look into Y/L/N’s research and any academic rivalries. Prentiss, you can assist him. JJ and I will continue interviews.”
After the brief meal, Spencer ducked out to call you about your luggage.
The buzzing of your cell phone drew you from your listless sleep.
“Dr. Y/L/N,” You murmured.
“It’s me.” Spencer replied. “Where are you staying?”
“The Convention Center, its not far from the precinct.” You answered, sitting up. “Whats happened?”
“Nothing, nothing, sorry.” Spencer soothed, “I have your luggage from the house. Do you think I could come by?”
“Of course, of course.” You closed your eyes to brace yourself against the memory that your dad was gone. “I’m in the penthouse, number 5. Do you think you can find me?”
“Yes,” his voice was light, “In fact we are staying just three floors down.” The phone line went dead after he hung up.
“He is not telling us everything.” JJ proposed after Reid had left for the hotel on foot.
“Of course he isn’t,” Rossi defended. “But he isn’t hiding anything that is pertinent to the case.”
“Rossi, what was the interview like?” Morgan inquired, “Was it friendly?”
“I have not seen the kid like that before,” Rossi conceded.
“Wait, are you saying she’s an old flame?” Prentiss asked, shock filling her flawless features.
“There was something,” Rossi admitted. “She even had a nickname for him.”
“What?!” JJ and Morgan said simultaneously.
“Oh man, please, do tell,” Morgan begged.
Rossi shook his head and help up his hands, not spilling any more gossip tonight.
“That’s okay, Rossi,” Morgan baited. “My girl, Penelope, will get the dirt for me!”
Morgan leaned back in the borrowed chair and called Garcia back in Quantico.
“Whats my sweet Romeo in need of tonight?” She greeted the dark and handsome agent.
“Oh, baby girl, just some side job.” Morgan flirted.
“Any side, any way for you.” Garcia volleyed back.
“I need you to dig up everything you can on Y/N Y/L/N for me.” Morgan got to the point. “Now, this is not for the case, this is just covering my boy Reid’s back.”
“I am picking up what you’re putting down.” Garcia followed. “Alrighty, my love, I will send what my searches find in the morning. I need to refill on my beauty sleep.”
The time change was hitting the whole team in California hard. Slowly everyone packed up and headed over to the hotel.
*
You couldn’t redress in your flight clothes because you had forgotten them on the floor in the bathroom during your wake up shower. You hung the soaked garments on top of the shower head for the following day. You quickly threw your cami and panties back on. Grateful again, for the comfy robes, you bundled up, awaiting your guest.
You paced the large room, ordered some room service and eventually poured some wine from the minibar into the disposable cups provided. Finally, your body had adjusted to the shock of your morning. Your stomach ached for sustenance.
There was a slight rapping on the heavy penthouse door.
“Coming!” You called, re-securing your tie belt over the fuzzy material. You exhaled deeply and peered through the sight glass. Spencer waited sheepishly in the plush hallway. He was wearing his hair longer now, he seemed so much older. You realized you both had grown up, that stung realizing your dad was never going to know the current or the future.
You opened the door dramatically, almost throwing yourself off balance. “Come on in” you pasted a corny smile on your tired features. “Thanks for grabbing that for me. I would have never thought to ask.”
His eyes dilated ever so slightly at the sight of you in that robe, but he strolled into the room anyway.
“Not at all, Y/N.” Spencer waved away your gratitude, sliding the long handle of your bag over his head.
“Wine?” You offered Spencer the other wrapped Dixie cup.
“I’m good,” Spencer shook his head, “Besides I am technically on the job, so.” His brown eyes went wider and he made a funny twist to his mouth.
“Suit yourself,” You shrugged your shoulders, finishing the mini Sutter Homes bottle of White Zin. “Do you mind if I change? It will only be a minute.”
He stepped aside, gesturing you towards the private bath, like a game show host. After grabbing your bag and securing the door behind you, you quietly do a mental calming exercise. Spencer Reid is now in your hotel room. And he is very much a man now and you are a damn good professor. This shouldn’t be weird. Sure these were the worst possible circumstances, but you always knew you would run into him again. You were rambling inside your head again.
You didn’t want to get actually dressed, so you slid on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms over your lacy boy shorts. You double check that your nipples weren’t being ridiculously obvious through your tank top and just went with comfort.
You make your way back out to the room, Spencer was reading over the papers you were supposed to be grading. “Theodosian dynasty?” Spencer asked.
“Yeah, not that the students quite get there were emperors other than Constantine.” You try to keep it light, curling up on the loveseat opposite the very large bed. “So, how’ve you been, Sir-sir?”
Spencer smiled at your term of endearment, taking a seat in the small matching recliner. “I’ve been well. Busy, I suppose, I have been with the BAU going on six years now.”
“How in the world did you end up a Federal Agent, Dr. Reid?” You teased, stretching your leg out to kick at his large sneaker.
“That’s a long story, Dr. Y/L/N.” Spencer countered, playfully. “How long have you been teaching?”
You got up and poured yourself more wine, tilting your head back you think. “This will be the end of my third year at Columbia.”
“Do you love it?” Spencer asked, knowingly.
“How could you tell?” You asked honestly surprised.
“You always shared your passions and interests with a detailed fervor.” Spencer intimated. “I can’t imagine you being any happier than in a grand lecture hall, shaping eager minds.”
You blush at the esteemed compliment, suddenly you feel exposed before your former crush. Where was the damned room service?
*
Spencer watched you pace the room, your bare shoulders carved, yet delicate. He imagined the sensations of tracing your neck, your shoulders, your curves with the tips of his long fingers. As you started asking about his team, your cheeks reddened. He knew you were getting drunk, but he stayed calm and sober.
There came a knock at the door. “Room Service.”
You clap your hands together, rubbing them together in anticipation, striding toward the door. Spencer’s gaze follows the swing of your ass toward the door, knowing there are mere layers of fabric between your smooth skin and his eyes. He adjusted in his seat, attempting to hide his arousal.
“Would you like some?” Y/N voices calls to him.
“What?” Spencer squinted, missing the real question.
“I have plenty, Spencer, please, join me.” You say between bites of assorted appetizers.
He remained across the room, calming his thoughts and sensations. You had no idea, but secretly you watched him in return. His pink lips always expressive. His pale skin, sinewy. You thought about playing with his curls, about tugging them. You were lost in your head again, you sigh to yourself and realize Spencer had joined you at the small table closer to the bed.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” You venture, nothing sought, nothing gained.
Spencer briefly choked on his barbecue wing. After a minute and a glass of water, he answers. “No, no one.” He doesn’t make eye contact. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. He is hesitant, not uninterested, you sense.
“Nor I.” You enunciate, waiting for those brown eyes to acknowledge your insinuation.
“Y/N/N, um, I am.” Spencer stumbles on his words, mesmerized by your fingers, gently circling his. “Flattered.” He finally finished.
You slowly rose, taking his hand and placing it to your face as you approached his seated frame. Holding his palm firmly, you reach for his hair with your spare hand. His eyes are watching, fearing, yet soulful. Now you are losing your patience, he is frozen. You direct his hand down your face, slipping it over your neck, passed the outline of your breast, he gasps. You continue to bring his hand down, to rest on your waist. You gently lean forward, a soft kneel on his lap. You kiss him, firmly and defiantly. He remains frozen for a lifetime, an actual three seconds, you have never seen him this quiet.
Suddenly he engages, parting his soft lips, drinking you in. His other hand is behind your back, supporting you. He pulls you closer, his hands are in your damp hair. You spin slightly, kicking your leg across his lap, straddling him. You hook your feet around the bottom of the chair for leverage and you begin to grind against his growing desire. He starts exploring you, his mouth trailing kisses down your jaw, your pulse point, the base of your neck. You moan against the rough friction and the tender kisses, sensations in contrast, yet equally desired.
His large hands push your tank top up, you hold your arms above your head, helping him disrobe you. You grab the back of the chair once again for support, now his warm mouth is on your nipple; suckling, nibbling, then blowing on it. You are unraveling. You grab his hair and hold him to your mouth, distracting him from your taut peaks. Keeping your eyes closed, and his mouth occupied you begin to undress him. First the low buttons on his cardigan, then, roughly the navy speckled tie, finally the long dress shirt, baring his porcelain skin pulled against his thin frame.
You trace your hand down his chest, slowly rocking against him, your wetness seeping through your pajama bottoms now. Spencer tilts his head back, moaning your name. Suddenly you fell forward, and he had fallen backwards, landing hard against him, against the seat back, against the luscious carpet. You both freeze for a beat. Then start laughing hysterically.
“Oh gods, Spencer, are you hurt?” You ask looking across the floor at him.
“Just my pride,” he admits, not taking his eyes off of you. His fingers trace your outline, from your hairline to your hips and back again.
“ I am sorry, I should have known these chairs were not built to withstand that momentum.” You giggled, propping your head up on on a bent elbow.
“Y/N/N, I can’t stay.” Spencer sighed.
“Why not?” You pouted, dragging your hand down his exposed chest, to his flat stomach.
“Because, I don’t want to take advantage,” Spencer took your hand, intertwining your fingers in his. He held your knuckles to his mouth, like a promise.
“I am fairly certain I am the one who started this, Spencer.”
“You did, “ Spencer agreed. “But I have to end it for the night. I don’t want you to regret this, to regret us.” He peered across at you with such raw sincerity, your heart was melting. Why did he have to be so kind and chivalrous? Why now, after so many years of wondering.
You nodded, not certain you could answer without your voice cracking with overwhelming emotion. You lean into him, planting a final kiss on his honest mouth. He held you to his heartbeat and you fell apart. Knowing he was rejecting you to protect your grieving heart, and to protect his own grieving heart. You lie beside him on the dense carpeting, crying. Crying for your father, for yourself, for your teenage self that had yearned for this. You cried because your father never got to meet the amazing man Spencer had become, a man he helped shape. A man who held a broken person as long as she needed him to.
***
To Be Continued… Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
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