Title: Salad Days
By: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Permission to archive: Yes
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Type: Slash
Pairing: Reid/Hotch
Summary: Few of us go through life without taking part in some kind of rite of passage: Hank Nuwer.
Prompt: 007 High School AU for wtf27 and Don't I know You? for 10_cliche_fics
Warning: Dubious consent, some violence
Author's Note: OK, so this is College not High School. But Reid and Hotch being at College together is just as crackficcy as them being at High School together so . . .
Written for thimpressionist's seven kinks meme. This is first time and denim. Beta read by the very lovely slash_girl - thanks for listening to me flail and for reading this. Any further mistakes are mine.

***

"My salad days - when I was green in judgement"
~William Shakespeare Anthony and Cleopatra


The air was crisp as the weather turned from summer to fall. Tonight was Theseia, a ritual evening of challenges and revelry that the members of Alpha Theta Delta had celebrated since the college was founded. The present students knew that it had a Greek connection, but the actual origins had been long since forgotten. Mainly, it involved the consumption of large amounts of alcohol and a series of pranks.

"Hey - we got a live one here!" called Richards as the group of senior frat members made their way across the grassy area outside the sports hall. There were four of them, half marching, half dragging a dishevelled young man who was struggling to get free from their tight hold.

Aaron Hotchner adjusted his eye mask and grinned at the group. All of the frat boys wore masks and camouflage make up and no-one used real names, although they didn't need to worry too much. The college authorities knew about this night and turned a fairly blind eye so long as nobody complained. Most of the frat members had long family histories with the college and problems could usually be resolved with a judicious donation to the library or alumni fund.

"He's all yours," laughed Richards. "His mommy very kindly sewed his name into his shirt." He snatched the young man's glasses and tossed them to Hotch, who caught them and tucked them away in his back pocket. "Your prey is one Spencer Reid - studying for a PhD in Math, so he says."

"Get off of me," pleaded Reid, twisting in an attempt to escape from their grip. "You've had your fun, now let me go."

The frat students snickered. Hotch laughed too. He was buzzing from the beer and from the exhilaration of chasing around the campus earlier on. Now there was just one more challenge before he could stake his claim to become the President of Alpha Theta Delta, the fraternity his father had belonged to.

"What do I have to do with him?" asked Hotch, his hands resting on his hips.

Richards pointed to a dark passageway in between two extensions of the sports hall and the students dragged a protesting Reid into it, shoving him so that he stumbled against the damp wall. Richards clapped Hotch on the shoulder. "No-one can see you in there and it's a dead end," he whispered conspiratorially. "You need to come back with his underpants for your trophy."

Hotch hesitated for a moment and Richards gave him a wink. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," he laughed, before beckoning the others to follow him, leaving Hotch and Reid alone in the dank passageway.

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Hotch knew he was blocking the only exit. He saw Reid's eyes dart from side to side, his too long hair falling over his eyes. The kid was cornered and cowering against one wall, his back against the damp mossy bricks. There was blood trickling from his nose and lip. He looked like a high school freshman, not a grad student.

Hotch snorted. This was going to be easy. He took a step forwards.

The kid cringed, holding his belt buckle with one hand and wiping the blood from his face with the other. Hotch smirked, emboldened by the alcohol and the atmosphere of exuberance. It was tribal, primal - intoxicating.

Suddenly, Reid sprang from the wall and tried to run past him. Hotch spun and caught his arms and then shoved him hard against the wall. "Nice try," he said, pushing his shoulder out to pin the young man to the brickwork.

Hotch was bigger and stronger and he could keep Reid pressed against the wall with one hand on his arm and by using his shoulder. He heard him whimper as he reached to unbuckle his belt.

Hotch pulled hard and the leather belt whipped through the young man's belt loops, cracking against the wall.

"Please," whispered Reid. "Don't."

Hotch didn't reply, but instead unzipped the kid's pants. The slender body beneath him wriggled but he used his larger weight to hold him there. Hotch reached into his pocket and pulled out a small hunting knife.

There was another whimper and a sharp intake of breath. Hotch grabbed hold of the waistband of Reid's corduroy pants and yanked them down.

Another sound that could have been a sob. "Please don't," begged Reid. "Don't."

"Don't be such a pussy," muttered Hotch, "It's not that bad." Reid was wearing plain white briefs and Hotch took the waistband and pulled, releasing after a moment to let it smack back against the skin.

Hotch paused for a moment, crushing his body against Reid's. The only part of his face Hotch could make out clearly in the darkness was his eyes, which were wide with fear. His chest was heaving and he was snivelling.

Hotch grabbed the thin material of Reid's briefs and cut through it easily with his knife. He pulled hard and the underwear came away in his fist. As he moved his hand away from Reid's crotch, his knuckles brushed against solid flesh.

A grin broke across Hotch's face. Spencer Reid had a hard-on.

"What's this?" said Hotch in a low voice as he dropped the underwear to the ground. He curled his hand around the kid's erection. "What do we have here?"

"Don't," choked Reid, turning his head away. "Stop it, please."

Hotch felt his own dick swell in his jeans as he held on to Reid. He moved his hand up and down slowly, momentarily taken back to boarding school and late night dorm activities.

"Please."

Hotch stroked Reid's cock again. This time there was a muffled sob and the kid jerked his hips forward, pushing into Hotch's hand. His breath was hot on Hotch's face.

Quickly undoing his jeans, Hotch grabbed Reid's hand and shoved it inside his boxers. Long fingers probed and curled tentatively around his cock. Hotch groaned softly. He hadn't done this since school.

He pumped the kid's hard-on once more and then lifted Reid's hand out of his boxers.

He hadn't been expecting to have this much fun during Theseia.

"Turn around," growled Hotch, taking hold of Reid's shoulder and twisting him.

The young man obeyed, pivoting to face the wall. He placed both hands on the rough brickwork and closed his eyes.

Hotch used one hand to press into Reid's back, pushing his body hard against the wall. He brought the other hand to his mouth and spat furiously into his hand, coating his palm in saliva. Then he moved his hand to his dick and rubbed the liquid over it, lubricating himself as best he could.

Hotch took a breath, positioned his cock, and started to push it into the young man's ass. He heard Reid gasp and felt him squirming but took hold of his hips to keep him from moving away.

He could just make out Reid biting down on his lip as he thrust hard in and out of him. He felt so tight, his ass creating a delicious friction on Hotch's cock. Hotch kept his hips moving, hard and fast, hearing the whimpers escaping from the young man's lips.

Hotch tried to hold back, to make it last, but it felt too good. His fingers pressed into Reid's slender hips and he found himself groaning. Reid let out a soft moan and then Hotch was fucking him deeper, shoving his body against the wall as his hips jerked. Hotch groaned loudly as he came and was just aware of the young man shuddering and moaning quietly.

After his breathing had returned to normal, Hotch pulled out and stood back, re-buttoning his jeans. Reid kept his face to the wall and pulled up his pants, fumbling with his zipper and tucking his shirt tails in.

For the first time, Hotch felt slightly awkward. "Not the nicest of places," he said with an embarrassed laugh, "I bet you'd usually pick somewhere a bit more comfortable."

Reid shrugged and didn't look up. "I don't know," he mumbled, "That was my first time."

"What do you mean?" asked Hotch, suddenly anxious.

Reid turned slowly around, his hair hanging over his face. "What I said," he replied. "I haven't done that before." He wiped his hands on his pants and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

Hotch was incredulous. "You're a virgin?"

"Was," replied Reid, nervously. "I was a virgin."

Hotch stared at him. "How old are you?" he whispered. He tried to see Reid's face in the gloom. He hadn't said no. Or stop.

Reid swallowed. "I'm sixteen."

Hotch stumbled backwards in shock. "B . . . but . . . you're a grad student," he stuttered. He grabbed Reid's arm and pulled him hard towards the light to get a better look at his face. He studied him for a second before letting go and pushing him away in disgust.

Reid steadied himself and then wrapped his thin arms around his body. "I skipped some grades in school," he replied. He shifted his feet and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.

He had just fucked a sixteen year old in an alleyway; a sixteen year old virgin.

Hotch's brain computed this information and then he exploded.

"You stupid kid," spluttered Hotch, his feelings of guilt translating to anger. "What were you doing walking around the campus on your own? You must have known it was Theseia tonight!" It was all the kid's own fault. He had to realise that.

Reid's voice was choked. "Some asshole stole my bike. I live off campus and I didn't have much choice if I wanted to get home after my shift finished."

Hotch stared at him for a moment and then slapped him hard across the face. "You fucking idiot," he snapped as Reid staggered backwards with the force of the blow.

The kid hadn't said no.

They were both quiet for a moment, Reid leaning against the wall, palms pressed against his eyes and Hotch glaring at him. The only sound was Reid's breath hitching as he fought to control himself. Eventually he looked up.

"Can I have my glasses back please?" whispered Reid, sniffling. He wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. "You have my glasses and I . . . uh . . . need them."

Hotch reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out the glasses. He closed his fist around them, half tempted to throw them, but then he handed them to Reid who put them on. The underpants were on the ground next to his feet and he crouched to pick them up. "You should go home," he said quietly. "Get out of here."

Reid nodded and, putting his head down, he hurried away, breaking into a run when he got to the main path.

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The encounter had sobered Hotch up completely and he hesitated at the entrance to Alpha Theta Delta, pulling off his eye mask. He still had Reid's underpants in his hand but the game wasn't fun anymore. He was almost tempted to turn around and leave. Then he heard a voice behind him.

"Hotchner!" cried George, clapping him on the shoulder. "Well done. Now bring in the trophy and get welcomed properly. The old man would be proud."

"Yeah," nodded Hotch and he followed George into the house, reminding himself that the kid had been asking for trouble walking around on his own, looking like that. It was his own fault.

He handed over his trophy and grimaced at the whoops and cheers from the rest of the students. A beer was thrust into his hand and he plastered on a fake smile and did his best to join in. He was a sure thing for President now.

A while later, he was headed to the tub to fetch some more beers when he noticed a bicycle propped up against the wall in the corner of the room. He nudged the tall student next to him and asked "Where did that come from?"

The student sniggered. "It was Danno's trophy - he tackled a geek outside the library and brought it home. We'll take it back tomorrow."

Hotch felt suddenly nauseated and hurried out of the room.

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By the time that mid terms came around Hotch had decided to take his studies a little more seriously and had gathered a pile of books from his reading list to borrow from the library. The rest of the final year students were stressing about papers and so the house was quiet and far more conducive to studying. He made for the counter and stood in line to check the books out.

As Hotch reached the front of the queue, the library assistant was frowning at a book that had just been returned. She beckoned her colleague. "Can you take over for me? I should fix this loose page before I forget." He nodded and took her place at the desk.

Hotch placed his books on the counter and then stared at the young man who reached for them. He handed over his library card in silence, hoping that he wouldn't be recognised.

Reid pushed his glasses up his nose and began to scan and issue the books without looking up. "Do you realise that this one is a short term loan?" he asked, pausing at the book. "It has to be returned in twenty-four hours."

Hotch nodded. "Yes, I do," he said.

Reid's head snapped up and he stared open mouthed at Hotch. Then he picked up Hotch's library card and turned it over in his hand, examining the name. "Aaron Hotchner," he said softly, "Politics major."

Hotch swallowed and nodded. The young man's hands shook as he pushed the pile of books towards Hotch.

"The rest are due back in a week," he said, his voice wobbling. Then he turned quickly to the next student.

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The library closed early on a Saturday and Hotch waited outside at the bike racks until the young man came out, pulling his scarf tightly around his neck, a satchel slung across his body. He stopped when he saw Hotch.

"I didn't know you worked in the library," said Hotch. It was a pointless remark but he didn't know what else to say.

"Not everyone has rich parents and a college fund," mumbled Reid, glancing nervously at him.

"I just wondered," said Hotch, nervously, "Can I buy you a drink? Just to say . . . you know . . ." His voice trailed off.

"I'm sixteen years old," said Reid quietly. "Below legal drinking age." He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bunch of keys.

"Coffee then," smiled Hotch genially, "Or tea. I feel bad about what happened . . . during Theseia."

Reid swallowed audibly, his body frozen. "The festival of Theseus," he whispered. "Do you know who he was?"

"Of course," said Hotch with a shrug. "He killed the Minotaur." Of course he knew that. Everybody knew that.

Reid swallowed again. "Theseus also raped Siris' daughter Perigune." He spoke so softly Hotch had to strain to hear him. "And even after Ariadne saved his life by showing him how to get out of the labyrinth, he . . . uh . . . abandoned her on Naxos. He was . . . um . . . part of the kidnapping of Helen as well."

"Oh," replied Hotch. "I didn't know that."

"I guess he fits with your . . . um . . . games," mumbled Reid. He dropped his head and fiddled with the keys in his hand.

Hotch took a step towards him. "I'm sorry," he said, frowning as Reid moved away from him. He stepped forwards again. "I didn't mean to . . . I didn't realise."

Reid moved backwards, glancing around him in the early evening gloom. He was so quiet that Hotch took another pace towards him in order to hear what he was saying. Reid retreated again and stopped abruptly as his back met the wall. "Please," he whispered.

Hotch couldn't understand why the kid wasn't listening to him. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry." He moved closer and took hold of his arm. "Listen to me - I want to apologise."

Reid gasped and shrank against the wall. "Please," he said, eyes wide.

"I got carried away and I'm sorry," continued Hotch. "I want to make it up to you."

"Just . . . just get off of me, please," gulped Reid. "Please. I'm not going to snitch on you."

Hotch frowned at him, forgetting he had a hold of the kid's arm. "What is wrong with you? I'm trying to apologise here. There must be something I can do for you?"

Reid had closed his eyes. "Please just let go of me," he whispered. "I . . . I . . . I just want to be left alone. Please."

Hotch's hand dropped sharply to his side. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said simply.

Head down, Reid scuttled past him and Hotch watched as he unlocked his bike with trembling hands. Sniffling, he wheeled it away from the stand, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Hotch tried again, his voice cutting through the cool evening air. "I wanted to do something for you. To make it right."

Reid froze as Hotch spoke. Then he replied softly, his head still cast down, "I've always been bullied. Since kindergarten. You're not the first and I don't think you'll be the last." He lifted his head and looked beseechingly at Hotch. "Please - just stay away from me."

Reid swung one leg over the bicycle and leaned it to one side, pushing the pedal into place with his foot. He glanced at Hotch. "I have to go now," he said. "My mom will be worried."

Hotch took at step back. "Yeah, of course," he said, puzzled.

Reid pushed his foot down on the pedal and began to cycle away. Hotch watched until he disappeared from view, feeling deeply unsettled by the conversation.

Back at the dorm, he struggled to concentrate on his books. Eventually he gave up and headed for the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would help to ease the tension crawling around his body.

After the shower, Hotch leaned forward to rub the mist of condensation off the mirror. He swallowed hard at the sight of his reflection. For so many years, he had struggled to shake off the memory of his father and yet there he was, looking back at him. He was truly his son.

Aaron Hotchner - organiser, leader, achiever.

Bully.

end