Title: Hurt Me
By: TheLovethief
Pairing: Reid/Hotch
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Slash, some violence and other adult stuff.
A/N: For the few readers who are still with me: This story is about the beginning of Hotch's and Reid's difficult relationship. It takes place after episode 3.02 "In Name And Blood". Hope you like it. Thanks to AA for beta reading! ;D
Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.
Summary: Hotch and Reid: How it began.

***

Aaron Hotchner had never been much of a drinker. Perhaps a glass of red wine or a beer to unwind after a difficult case, but never enough to actually get intoxicated. Haley never liked him drunk.

Today, however, it didn't matter anymore. He'd returned from a rather grueling case in Milwaukee only to find his house abandoned. His wife had left him and had taken Jack with her.

With a heavy sigh, Hotch poured himself another whiskey. He sat in his favorite armchair in his now all too empty living room and thought about what the hell had happened to his once so well organized life. He still wasn't entirely sure what he had done wrong. What had Haley expected? She knew exactly how much his job meant to him and that he couldn't just leave his team.

He'd had to go and help his agents to find a sick bastard who had used his own son to lure women into his house and proceeded to cut their hearts out. Why did Haley refuse to show a little understanding?

Hotch gulped down his third drink and winced at the unpleasant burning in the back of his throat. Suddenly he could remember why he usually avoided stiff drinks. With a slightly disgusted expression on his face, he put the empty glass on the coffee table and leaned back into the armchair, closing his eyes tightly.

The profiler was just about to fall asleep when the doorbell rang. Hotch jerked in his seat and looked around, feeling more than a bit disorientated. It took him a while to remember where he was and what that disruptive noise could be.

He looked at his watch and frowned. It was nearly 10 o'clock in the evening. Who would come to visit at this late hour? He wasn't expecting anyone.

The bell sounded a second time.

Groaning, Hotch got up and moved slowly towards the front door. He swayed a little and blamed both the whiskey and the lack of sleep during the past days for that. Though the profiler wasn't really drunk, there was still an undeniable amount of alcohol in his blood that effected his coordination.

Hotch did a brief self-check before opening the door. Except for the jacket, he was still dressed in the suit he'd been wearing all day, only it didn't look quite as neat as usual. He ran his hands through his black hair to get some unruly strands under control again and pulled the door open.

Oh, he thought as he recognized the unexpected guest.

"Reid? What are you doing here?"

The young agent stood in the doorway, looking a bit lost with his hands deeply buried in his pockets. He shifted on his feet, seemingly not comfortable in his own skin.

Taking in his superior's appearance, Reid noticed that even though Hotch was still wearing his work clothes for some reason, he looked rather worn-out.

"Oh, did I wake you up?" he asked with a slight hint of panic in his voice. "I'm sorry, Hotch. I shouldn't have come here. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Reid was already on the retreat when his boss finally reacted.

"No, wait. I wasn't really asleep yet," he assured his colleague. He opened his door a little wider. "You wanna come in?"

Reid turned around again and threw his boss a doubtful look.

"You sure?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean, it's late and I..."

"Come on," Hotch urged, leaving no room for argument. He took a step back to give his visitor enough space to follow into the house.

Reid entered the building with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd never been at his superior's place before and he felt like an intruder.

Hotch led his agent into the living room, wondering what had brought on this late night visit.

"Do you want something? A drink?" he offered half-heartedly. The thought alone of having another glass was almost enough to make him sick. It was hard enough already not to slur in his speech.

Much to his relief, Reid shook his head. Hotch motioned him to have a seat on the couch but the younger man declined this offer as well. He just stood there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at Hotch.

The senior profiler scrutinized his subordinate. His youngest team member didn't look happy at all. Something's wrong...

"What's going on, Reid?" he asked quietly.

Without answering, the doctor pulled his left hand from his pocket, his fingers tightly wrapped around a folded piece of paper. He handed it to Hotch.

While the older man scanned the letter, Reid started to stammer. "I was worried...you know. He...he didn't call back and...," he trailed off.

Hotch glanced up. "You found this at his cabin?"

Reid nodded and bit his lower lip.

The unit chief sighed. What a day, he mused wryly. He had been left by his wife at the same time as Reid had been abandoned by his mentor. Hotch put the paper on the table next to the whiskey bottle and stepped closer to his agent.

"He's gone," the younger man said with an unwanted quiver in his voice. He looked at his boss with big eyes. He didn't know what he'd expected Hotch to do about Gideon's leaving. Actually, he had no idea what he was doing here at all. He just couldn't stand being alone right now. Nonetheless, he felt incredibly pitiful – coming here like a hysterical girl, invading his superior's private space.

"Yes," was all Hotch said. He moved even closer to Reid, not caring about the alcohol scent in his own breath anymore. Carefully, he placed his hand on his teammate's shoulder.

Even this simple gesture of comfort caused the genius to tense up immediately.

He's not used to be touched – this somewhat saddening thought crossed Hotch's mind. He almost expected Reid to pull back but the younger man didn't.

Instead of breaking the physical contact, Reid reached out and put his hand on the side of Hotch's neck. He moved his thumb slowly over the skin above the collar of his boss' white shirt.

The older man held his breath and watched Reid's face. There was something in those sad hazel eyes...fascination, fear. Desire?

"Where's Haley?" his agent asked absent-mindedly, his gaze completely focused on Hotch's neck.

"She's gone."

At this, something changed in Reid's expression. He blinked once and was finally able to move his eyes and look at his superior's face.

Long fingers wandered to the back of Hotch's neck. Without thinking, Reid pulled the older man close and kissed him hard on the lips. It was a short, but intense moment.

"What are you doing?" the senior profiler asked, appalled by his own calm tone of voice. Don't do this, a warning voice in the back of his mind repeated over and over.

Both men's faces were still very close together and Hotch could hear the shiver in Reid's breath.

"Hit me," the younger man said suddenly. It was only a whisper but to Hotch it felt like a blow to the solar plexus.

"What?" He stared at his subordinate, hoping that this was a misunderstanding. However, a small but all too familiar part of him did not share this hope. Hotch could already feel how this part that he'd hidden for so many years, the dark side of him, started to wake up.

"Please hit me." Even quieter this time. Reid looked pleadingly at the older man.

Hotch shook his head. The boy had no idea what he was asking from him. It took all of his willpower not to give in into the urge to just comply with this unexpected request.

"No. Why would I do that, Reid?"

The younger man seemed to be close to tears at this point. There was something so desperate in his eyes that Hotch could feel a painful sting in his chest. No, no, no, no...

Again, Reid tried to pull Hotch close. "Please, I need..."

"What?" The older profiler interrupted harshly. "What do you need?"

"I need to...feel this, pain, something... Hotch, please?" The last part sounded almost like a whimper. In a defeated gesture, Reid rested his forehead against his superior's shoulder. "Please."

And the final whispered plea was enough to let the animal inside Hotch loose. In a quick movement he pushed the slender man away and slapped him with the back of his hand across the face. Hard.

Reid stumbled sideways. He touched the assaulted cheek with trembling fingers and stared at the wild looking man in front of him. And suddenly he knew what exactly he needed. Wanted.

Through long lashes he peered at Hotch and whispered: "Take me."

Hurt me.

"Please."

Now that the borderline was crossed, the senior profiler couldn't stop himself anymore.

He grabbed the lighter man and pushed him roughly down onto the parquet. With his left hand Hotch pinned Reid's skinny wrists above the young agent's head against the floor, while his free hand undid both of their pants.

Reid squirmed beneath his boss' weight. In a way, he was scared to death. He knew there was no way to stop the stronger man now. On the other hand, he didn't want him to stop. He wanted to feel all of it. All of what Hotch was willing to give.

"Turn around," the man on top of him growled and released the already bruised wrists to let Reid change his position. As soon as his subordinate was on his front, he once again gripped the thin arms and held them together behind the wriggling man's back.

With the more subtle fingers of his right hand, Hotch pulled Reid's trousers further down and started to prepare him hastily.

"Don't," a small voice pleaded. "Just...do it."

Hotch hesitated. For a split second he wondered why Reid was so desperately trying to make this more painful than necessary.

"You sure...?" he couldn't help but ask. After all, the main part of him was still the caring and worrying leader.

The expected and much longed for answer came instantly. "Yes...please."

That was all the assurance Hotch needed. Slowly but firmly he entered the slim body, groaning at the incredible sensation that spread from his groin through his whole body.

Reid drew a deep breath. It hurt. Oh God, how much it hurt. A single tear of pain. A sharp hiss as Hotch buried himself as deep as possible in him. But it was so good. The feeling of someone so close. The heat of another body, the breath of another person on the back of his neck.

Too much time had passed since the last time he'd felt so alive, so wanted, so used. That had been before the sick bastard Frank had forced Gideon into a nervous breakdown...

Hotch felt Reid relaxing. It was going easier now. He knew he wouldn't last long. The unfamiliar pleasure was too overwhelming, and too much alcohol was still flowing through his veins.

And after a few more hard movements he groaned loudly, collapsing completely drained on the still figure beneath him.

The older man needed a couple of seconds to come back to his senses. Eventually, he rolled onto his side and looked apprehensively at Reid.

"Spencer?" he asked gently and brushed some strands of light brown hair out of the younger man's delicate features. Reid's cheeks were wet with tears, but there was an expression of utter relief and satisfaction on his face that Hotch had never seen there before. "You didn't..."

"No," Reid agreed smiling and looked down at his body. He hadn't. But that didn't matter. This hadn't been about pleasure. Not this time. "I'll get my chance."

Hotch grinned. "Really?" he asked teasingly.

"Really," the younger man stated firmly. For some reason he was sure that this had not been his last time with Hotch, since his boss had lost his wife; and he had lost Gideon...

Reid got to his feet. "Uhm, bathroom?"

Hotch showed him the way. Then he settled down into his favorite armchair again and poured himself a fourth whisky.

I could get used to this...