The wall really needed a couple of fresh coats of paint to get rid of the bloodstains altogether, but Hotch didn’t have the energy or supplies to do it. He would have to come back another day before Elle was released from the hospital to do it. Taking off the latex gloves, he dumped them in the trash and wearily headed back to the car, locking the house behind him.
The whole situation ate at Hotch, deep in his gut. From the start, they’d been at the mercy of the Fisher King’s madness. They’d been two steps behind the whole time. It had only been luck that Spencer had stumbled upon the connection with his mother and without that, the casualties could have been so much worse.
As if Elle being shot in her own home wasn’t bad enough, he thought unlocking his car and climbing in.
He was too restless to go home, but couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. The office felt like an anathema to him just then, the main scene of his failure. He’d spent the day there filling out paperwork, but couldn’t face going back. It was no longer his refuge. After such a hard case, he’d made sure that no one else came into the office, so there hadn’t even been anyone there to distract him from the perceived change.
Gideon was the only one who’d defied his order not to come in, but then, Gideon did pretty much what he wanted anyhow. They hadn’t spoken except to exchange greetings and goodbyes, each lost in their own version of report hell. At least the other man had only stayed a little more than half of the day. Hotch had been there until six and then gone right to Elle’s house to start the cleanup.
His thoughts returned to how badly he’d botched the whole thing. His foresight had been nonexistent and Elle had paid the price. If he’d been paying closer attention, he would never have let Elle go home, or he would have made sure that the agent knew to stay with her regardless of her wishes. Not that rehashing things was doing his sense of self any good. His need for control had been badly shaken, more so than with any other case in recent history.
Pulling out his cell phone, he stared at it a long moment before hitting number three on his speed dial. After Haley and Gideon, Spencer was the person he called the most. He was sure that said something about him but for once, Hotch had no inclination to analyze what.
“Hello?” Spencer answered.
Hotch hesitated, then said, “It’s me.”
Spencer immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just…I wasn’t sure where you were. I’m checking in with everyone,” Hotch lied.
“Oh. Well, I’m at the airport,” Spencer reported. “Just got back from Vegas.”
“Do you need a ride?”
There was a pause before Spencer commented, “It’s almost
midnight, Hotch. Shouldn’t you be home with Haley and the baby?”
“So, you don’t want a ride?”
“No, I didn’t say that,” Spencer replied slowly, sounding puzzled. “I’m at Dulles at the Delta terminal. How soon can you be here?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Hotch hung up without saying anything else and started the car, backing out of Elle’s driveway and heading for Dulles. He hit number one on his speed dial once on the highway and waited for Haley to pick up.
“Hello?”
Wincing at the sleepy response, Hotch apologized, “I didn’t mean to wake you, sorry.”
“Aaron? Where are you? You should be home by now.”
“I know. I ran late at Elle’s and now Spencer needs a ride home from the airport. I may wind up spending the night since it’s a long drive home from his place. I just didn’t want you to worry.”
None of which was a lie, though he doubted that he would wind up at Spencer’s overnight. Despite his current discontent with his office, it was far more likely that he would end up sleeping on the sofa there again.
“Oh, all right. Well, drive safely. And say hello to Spencer for me.”
“I will. Good night, Haley.”
“Night, Aaron.”
Feeling a bit guilty, as though he were playing hookie from his family, Hotch disconnected and dropped the cell phone in his pocket.
* * * *
Traffic was light at that hour and Hotch actually arrived in the pickup zone in front of Delta only a half-hour later. Spencer was easy to spot, the tall, thin man leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Hotch’s first instinct was to scold the younger agent for not paying attention to his surroundings, but there were cops visible even at that late hour. Reining it in, he honked the horn and grinned to himself on seeing Spencer jump.
Spencer hurried to the curb and opened the back door to throw in his duffle, then climbed into the front passenger’s side. “Hey. Thanks, Hotch. You didn’t have to do this.”
“It was no problem,” Hotch replied, pulling smoothly back into traffic. “Did you get your mother settled back in?”
Sighing a bit, Spencer nodded and said, “Not that she noticed me about five minutes after getting back.”
“That’s rough.”
“It’s just what is.”
Hotch nodded, understanding Spencer’s matter-of-fact attitude. It was a lot how he dealt with, or rather didn’t deal with, his own past.
“How’s Elle?”
A little surprised by the question, Hotch glanced at the other man before answering, “She’s doing fine. You didn’t call her yourself?”
Spencer explained, “She was asleep both times I called.”
“I think the doctors are going to release her in a few days, once they’re sure infection won’t set in,” Hotch told him, glancing in his mirrors before pulling onto the highway.
Spencer sighed again, this time in apparent relief, and said, “Good. That’s great, really.”
They were quiet after that and Hotch could sense that Spencer was doing his best to not ask why he hadn’t gone home. Just as well, since he really couldn’t answer, not even to himself. He felt better, being in the younger man’s presence, almost as though he were more in control of things simply by taking care of Spencer. The agitation was still there, but lessened to a degree.
It wasn’t too much later that he found a parking spot outside Spencer’s apartment building and put the car in park. He shifted slightly to look at the other man and announced lightly, “Curb-to-curb service.”
Spencer smiled almost shyly as he replied, “Thanks, again. Hey, um, you want to come up? I mean, if you don’t feel like going home, you can crash on my sofa tonight. It’s not much and you’ll probably regret it in the morning, but, well, if you need a place to stay, it’s yours.”
The awkward, rambling offer touched something inside Hotch and he smiled. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“Okay. Well, you can park in my spot in the garage under the building,” Spencer suggested. “Save on a possible ticket. I hear the meter readers are vicious around here.”
Hotch smiled briefly and pulled out of the spot he’d found, following Spencer’s directions to get into the garage. He typed in the code Spencer told him and pulled into the spot to where he was directed. While Spencer grabbed his bag from the backseat, Hotch got his from the trunk, glad of the habit that had made him repack it with fresh clothes, the brief time he’d gone home.
Despite Spencer’s self-effacing words in the car, the apartment was clean and comfortable with fairly new looking furniture. “This is nice.”
Spencer shrugged and answered, “It’ll do for now.”
“Until what?” Hotch questioned.
Looking at bit startled, Spencer replied, “Ah, until I get a real house, I guess. Settle down. Well, if I do. It’s not like FBI agents have good track records with their families. Oh! Not that you don’t, I mean…never mind. There’s the sofa, and the bathroom’s right there. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’m just going to go shoot myself in the foot literally instead of figuratively now.”
Hotch laughed softly and told him, “Relax, Spencer, I knew what you meant.”
“Good, because sometimes I don’t,” Spencer muttered, heading down the short hall.
Hotch grinned as Spencer left the room mumbling to himself. Turning towards the sofa, he set his carryon down and then stood at a loss. That restlessness, that itch to do something, was growing instead of diminishing, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Logic and practicality said to get changed for bed, stretch out, and attempt to sleep. It was almost two in the morning and he was planning to go into work, even if Spencer didn’t go in. That meant a short four hours to get much needed rest.
Pulling his tie off was a start. His dress and t-shirts were next and he folded them neatly before setting them beside the carryon. Hotch toed off his shoes while unbuckling his belt and sliding it off. He lined all the items up together at the foot of the sofa, setting his belt on top of the shoes. Socks quickly followed, to be stuffed into one of the shoes and then he stood again, stretching his arms over his head and arching back to relieve the stiffness.
A soft sound from behind caught his attention and Hotch glanced over to see Spencer standing there, staring at him with big eyes behind his glasses. Eyebrows rising, Hotch questioned, “Something wrong?”
Spencer swallowed visibly before shaking his head and mutely going back the way he’d come.
Frowning, Hotch padded barefoot down the hall, calling, “Spencer? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Spencer answered at last, sounding a bit strangled. “You just, startled me.”
Hotch walked into the bedroom and pointed out, “You knew I was there.”
Spencer stood in the center of the room, looking very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Hotch automatically noted the comfortable furnishings and dim lighting as he moved closer, stopping a few feet from the other man.
“It, ah, it wasn’t that kind of startle,” Spencer admitted slowly, face flushing.
Hotch stiffened as he grasped Spencer’s meaning, but not in anger or disapproval. The sight of the uncertain and embarrassed young man not three feet away sent a surge of heat through him, among other things. Dark things. Things that he’d kept very, very firmly under wraps, locked up down deep where they couldn’t touch his life.
The one time he’d brought up the potential for that kind of sex, Haley had just about run screaming. And since he’d wanted her, not to mention all she represented, Hotch had buried that need for control. It found escape in other ways, of course, but Hotch’s sex life had been strictly vanilla since getting involved with Haley.
Biting his lip, Spencer said at last, “You don’t have to stay now. I mean, I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. I won’t ever bring it up at work, you can be sure of that. I’m sorry.”
Hotch gazed at him silently a long moment, knowing with utter clarity that he wasn’t wrong about Spencer. A lot of little things suddenly made sense to him; Spencer’s perpetual insecurity, despite his knowledge and degrees and experience; Spencer’s continuous lack of a significant other; the way Spencer always looked to one of them for orders or guidance. It all clicked into place and he commanded softly, “Take off your shirt.”
Spencer’s jaw dropped a little. “Ex-excuse me?”
“Take. Off. Your. Shirt.”
With slightly shaking hands, Spencer obeyed. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor.
“Not like that. Put it away properly,” Hotch admonished firmly.
Something settled inside Hotch as Spencer picked up the shirt and brought it over to the hamper in the corner. The edginess from before began to fade as he stared impassively at Spencer, who simply stood before him, waiting for more orders. Here was someone that he could do things to, incredible, nasty things, and not only would Spencer enjoy it, he would beg for more.
Hotch would make sure of that.
“Strip the rest of the way.”
Spencer bit his lip again, but obeyed. Within minutes, he was nude and his clothes properly deposited within the hamper, standing and waiting for Hotch to make the next move.
“Do you have a safe word?”
“N-no. I’ve ah, I’ve never actually, I couldn’t trust anyone to…” Spencer’s words trailed off.
Hotch nodded slowly and said, “Pick a word you’ll be able to remember in the heat of the moment. Something that means safety to you.”
“Gideon,” Spencer answered immediately.
Lips twisting a bit, not really surprised, Hotch said, “Good. That’ll definitely work. If you say Gideon at any time, whatever we’re doing stops and will not start up again, at least not tonight. Be sure of yourself before saying it.”
“Right. I mean, yes, I will.”
“On your knees,” Hotch ordered softly.
He actually saw the goosebumps erupt over Spencer’s arms as the younger man dropped without a single protest. Hotch slowly closed the distance and then did as he’d always wanted to do; tangled his fingers in the longish hair. He used the hold to tip Spencer’s head back, looking down into the hazel eyes with a faint smile. “Do you want to be abused, or just used, Spencer?”
Spencer’s mouth opened slightly, but no words formed or escaped.
“Should I get my belt from the living room and beat your ass until you can’t sit down for a week?”
A faint noise at that, like Spencer was trying to speak, but unable.
“Are you a slut, I wonder?” Hotch mused. “Do you fuck around the gay clubs on the weekends when you aren’t mooning over JJ, or just fantasize about it?”
Spencer actually whimpered at his words, eyes closing briefly.
Hotch’s lips twitched into a brief, hard smile; the predatory one that almost felt unfamiliar, it had been so long since he’d used it. The best sex came from being mentally, physically, and emotionally engaged, after all, and he used everything in his fairly considerable arsenal.
Tightening his hand in Spencer’s hair, Hotch commented, “I bet you’re a slut in your mind. I bet that you’ve got a dildo or vibrator around here that you take out and fuck yourself with because you don’t dare go to a club on your own.”
“Hotch,” Spencer finally whispered, shuddering.
“Do you?”
Hotch could practically see the gears engaging as Spencer tried to remember what the question was about.
“I, no. I don’t ha-have anything.”
“So you just jerk off?”
Spencer’s flush now was mingled lust and embarrassment, that much was obvious. “Sometimes, I use my finger. You know. In, inside me.”
Hotch brought Spencer face first to his crotch, pressing the young man against his slacks as he said, “Stay right there. Don’t move or speak until I say.”
Wisely, he did nothing to even respond.
Hotch grinned at the quickness with which Spencer took to the whole situation. Of course, the poor kid had never had a partner to do this with, so…Hotch’s cock, already half-hard, filled even further as he wondered if Spencer had ever had a sexual partner, period.
“How many lovers have you had, Spencer?”
Spencer’s answer was a muffled, “Two.”
“Men?”
“One male, one female.”
Hotch half-grinned as he semi-taunted, “You tried one of each before deciding? Needed to get all the experiential data to make sure? Or are you bisexual?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted.
Combing his fingers through the soft, partially-tangled hair, Hotch asked, “When did you last have sex?”
“Two years ago.”
“And how was it?”
Spencer didn’t answer at first.
Hotch tightened his fingers and repeated, “How was it?”
“Not great,” Spencer finally answered.
Not liking the somewhat sullen tone, Hotch ordered, “Explain. And watch your tone.”
“He…he went too fast,” Spencer told him. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted then, but by the time I could get myself together enough to explain, it was over. He’d come and then just left me there.”
“Left you where?” Hotch demanded sharply.
“We were at a mutual friend’s party.”
Hotch nodded to himself and then said, “As of right now, forget everything that went before. It’s irrelevant. None of that has anything to do with this. I know what you need and I’m going to give it to you. As of right now, you’re mine to do with as I please and right now, I want you to suck my cock.”
Spencer shuddered against him and reached for his pants, undoing the button and zipper with shaking hands. Pulling down the slacks and boxers, Spencer studied the shaft in front of him and Hotch let him. They had time to go as slow as the younger man needed.
Giving an experimental lick, Spencer hesitated, then went back to do it again. And again. He nuzzled at Hotch’s groin, sending a shiver of sensation through him, and then carefully took the cock into his mouth. It was awkward and certainly didn’t have enough suction or pressure to get him off, but Hotch didn’t complain or even direct the action. This was Spencer’s chance to get acquainted with his body, to explore without guilt.
And it wasn’t as though Hotch didn’t enjoy the attention.
He let Spencer play with him for several minutes, relishing the intent focus his new lover brought to bear. Small, studied licks to his balls. Lollipop sucking on the end of his dick. Tentative, but ever greater increments as Spencer tried to go as far down on him as possible. He didn’t get far before choking, but that was all right, too.
When his body was nicely tense from the blowjob, his cock fully hard and balls just starting to ache, Hotch pulled Spencer off, pleased when the other tried to keep going. Smiling to himself, Hotch stated, “Enough, Spencer.”
Licking at his lips repeatedly, as if trying to get more of that same flavor, Spencer blinked up at him, glassy-eyed with desire.
“On the bed.”
Spencer stood with a faint groan, rubbing his knees before walking over to the bed and climbing on top of it.
Hotch stepped out of his pants and boxers as he asked, “Do you have any lube or condoms?”
“I, ah, no,” Spencer admitted, grimacing. “I try not to think about sex, since I rarely have even the opportunity.”
Thoughtful, Hotch questioned, “I can go out and get condoms, if you want. We’re both clean, but it’s your decision.”
Spencer hesitated before asking, “What do you want?”
“To know what you want.”
Sighing, as if frustrated, Spencer said, “I feel like I should say yes, given all the sex ed classes instilled into me thanks to public education, but I trust you and, like you said, we’re both clean.”
“What do you want, Spencer? Make a decision.”
Spencer bit his lip again, but ultimately replied, “I want you in me, all of you. I, I want everything.”
Hotch smiled and told him, “Then that’s what you’ll get. Lie back and get comfortable.”
As Spencer stretched out on the bed, Hotch went to the closet and pulled out a couple of ties. He held them up to Spencer and told him, “These will have to do since I don’t have proper restraints any more.”
Spencer blinked at him. “Any more?”
A grin flashed over Hotch’s face before he could stop it. He nodded and walked the rest of the way to the bed and secured both slender wrists to the wrought iron headboard. “There are our handcuffs, of course, but those would be too uncomfortable for you. I’ll have to get something more appropriate for the future.”
Licking his lips, Spencer repeated faintly, “The future?”
Hotch half-grinned at him as he climbed onto the bed and straddled Spencer, confirming, “The future.”
Before Spencer could gather his wits, Hotch bent down and kissed him. It was their first kiss, but it seemed strangely natural for him to delve deep with his tongue, exploring at his leisure. Spencer gasped into it, responding eagerly. Rubbing his hands along the lightly defined chest, Hotch slowly devoured his lover with wet, commanding kisses, taking exactly what he wanted and needed from the younger man.
Hotch broke off the kiss only to suck lightly at the sharp jaw and chin, then licked his way down the slender throat. He lingered over the prominent Adam’s apple before moving up to nuzzle behind the right ear, biting hard on the lobe.
“Hotch!” Spencer exclaimed.
Chuckling softly, Hotch ignored the protest and shifted down. He paused here and there to press his lips to soft, smooth skin and small, teasing bites in other places. Spencer’s left nipple deserved a lot of attention and he sucked and mouthed it for at least five minutes, flicking his tongue against the hard nub until Spencer squirmed under him. He decided to leave the other nipple alone and glanced up at his lover, pleased to find the young man open-mouthed and flushed.
Hotch sat upright, pinning Spencer easily with just his weight as he stared at the other man. Spencer’s tongue licked over his lower lip prompting another need to kiss, which he indulged until his new lover gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting up at him. Pulling back, he shifted to the side and ordered, “Spread your legs.”
Spencer complied immediately and Hotch moved between them again. His hand wrapped around the slender cock resting on Spencer’s stomach. It lay hot and hard in his grip and Hotch stroked it a few times, enjoying the soft cries from above. Stretching out, he took the shaft into his mouth provoked a loud cry and he went to work on breaking Spencer through pleasure. It didn’t take long, helped along by the serious dry spell, Hotch was sure. Only a few minutes later, Spencer groaned and shuddered, spurting into Hotch’s mouth as his hips jerked raggedly.
“Spencer, look at me,” Hotch commanded, even as the other panted for air.
It took a minute or so before Spencer regained his senses enough to obey and by then, Hotch was stroking his own dick in hard, almost punishing strokes. He wanted to fuck Spencer, wanted to take his virginity and make the younger man forget everything else but Hotch. He also knew that he was far too close to the edge to do it justice. He’d just let the genie back out of the bottle and needed to regain control before doing anything more involved.
Gazing into Spencer’s eyes, Hotch said in a low voice, “I’m going to make you mine, Spencer, in a way you never dreamed possible. I’m going to do it over months, maybe even years, but I’ll do it. You’re going to beg me to fuck you many, many times before I actually do it. We’re going to do everything you never even thought to dream about.”
The images painted in his mind combined with Spencer’s wide-eyed, wanting expression, finally sent him over the edge and Hotch came. He jerked himself harder, striping come all over Spencer’s abs, cock, and midriff. Shaking with the release, Hotch sank onto his knees and caught his breath. He felt good, satiated in a way that had been missing for a long time. Giving Spencer a gentle smile, Hotch leaned forward and untied Spencer.
When he got them both under the blankets, Spencer curled up against him, leg over Hotch’s hip and his face pressed against his throat. He whispered something that Hotch couldn’t quiet make out. Squeezing with the arm around his waist, Hotch asked, “What did you say?”
“Thank you,” Spencer repeated, soft, looking at him. “God, Hotch…I can’t thank you en…”
Hotch covered his mouth with a hand and told him, “We both need this, Spencer. There is no need for thanks between us. I just want your promise on something.”
Spencer nodded, still a bit wide-eyed with wonder.
“If…when this isn’t working for you anymore, you need to promise me that you’ll stop,” Hotch said. “Don’t think about me or anything but what you need, all right?”
A faint frown marred Spencer’s face, but he nodded again and replied, “I promise. But Hotch, I can’t ever see not wanting this.”
And for that, Hotch kissed him as sweetly as he knew how.