Title: On the Dance Floor
By: Seven Corvus
Pairing: Hotch/Morgan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: public sex
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except in my dreams.
Summary: He never suspected Hotch could move like that, dancing.

***

He never suspected Hotch could move like that. All liquid grace and smooth movements, muscles tightening and relaxing under his too formal clothes, which hid a no doubt amazing physique. Like so many other things were hidden. Morgan had noticed that Hotch was attractive, how could he not, but not like this. Not this uninhibited sensuality.

They had gone to a club to unwind after too many tense days tracking a serial killer. Now the case was behind them, and they were determined to enjoy the rest of the night. It had taken much encouragement, and more than a few drinks, but the girls had somehow managed to get Hotch out on the dance floor, and Morgan would be forever thankful. He couldn't pull his eyes away, entranced by the sight of his self enclosed boss dancing without a care.

Swallowing around a desert dry throat, seeing was no longer enough. He needed to feel it, feel that form moving against him, riding the rhythms of the music together. Walking on shaky legs towards Hotch, Morgan came up behind him, grabbing his hips and pulling him back against him.

Ignoring the older man's startlement, he began to move, enticing Hotch to move with him. Connected together, front to back, they danced smoothly, every motion a seduction of the other. Breathing in his scent, Morgan absolutely had to have a taste, licking up the sweat along Hotch's neck, who shifted his head to give the other agent more room.

Shuddering, Morgan couldn't take it anymore; he needed more of Hotch now. Turning him around, he nipped his way up the other man's neck and jaw, finally taking those oh so tempting lips. Moaning at his first real taste, he thrust his tongue inside, dancing around Hotch's own, searching for more of that flavor.

Still rocking together to the beat, Morgan thrust a leg between the older agent's, grabbing his ass to pull them even closer together. He wasn't going to chance that whatever miracle had gotten Hotch into his arms might suddenly disappear. He was going to claim the man right here, in the middle of the club, where all their coworkers could see. Morgan was not about to give him an opportunity to pretend that nothing had happened.

He had never felt this possessive before, driven by an all consuming need to make the other man come, to know that he was the one who had driven his boss to it. Morgan had to know that it wasn't one sided, that Hotch wanted him just as much.

Releasing his lips for a much needed breath, the younger man bent down to lick and suck Hotch's nipples through his silk dress shirt. Getting the material damp, Morgan felt the little buds harden, begging for more. Ripping the shirt open with a growl, he needed to get to that soft skin, memorize the feel of it, so that he could always recall the taste of it on his tongue. Swamped with sensation, Hotch could only let himself be carried away with it, running his hands along Morgan's scalp, holding his head in place.

Hands cupping and squeezing the other man's ass, Morgan grinded his thigh into the hard cock beneath Hotch's pants. Giving the nipple in his mouth a sudden harsh bite, and pulling strongly at the other, Morgan watched with a look of complete satisfaction, as Hotch fell apart in his arms.