Title: Just Enough To Feel It
Author: theimpressionis
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe
Warnings: bondage, non-con, violence. Dark, dark, dark, dark. And also, dark.
Notes: This was supposed to be a light fluffy feel-good fic for slash_girl. It's not.
***
Spencer lies on the bed in front of me, utterly still. Shadows dance across his face like lace, the streetlight filtering through the trees that stand guard in front of Spencer's apartment.His hazel eyes are fixed on my face, huge.
The rest of the world seems far away; it's dark and still in his apartment. That's good, darkness hides so many things. Like the trickle of blood that runs from his split lip. The answering burn in my knuckles reminds me that I did that.
I tenderly wipe the blood away with my shirtsleeve. I bend down and kiss his full mouth, lap at the blood on his mouth, the electric copper taste of it makes me kiss him deeper, starting the blood flowing again.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat and I moan in return. I should have known that it would be so good, that he would understand, somehow. He pulls away, it's too much.
"Aaron?" his voice is deliciously horse. "Aaron, what's going on?"
As if he didn't know. As if we hadn't been dancing around each other since day one; flirting and joking. How he pressed back against me when I was showing him how to use a weapon on the range. How, if it was Morgan's turn to drive, his thigh always seemed to bump against mine on every curve in the rode. Then again, he probably wasn't expecting me to appear in his bedroom, didn't anticipate me making my move. It was raining; my damp clothes clung to me.
I had stood in front of his apartment; I had grown tired of waiting. Sick and tired of all the little games we always played. I just meant to talk to him. I rang his buzzer, over and over, but there was no answer and his cell phone was off. Was he out with someone? Some cheap blonde who would let him buy her dinner and leave him standing on her front step at the end of the night? She wouldn't understand him. None of them do.
But I do, I realize how amazing Spencer is; how smart and funny and beautiful he can be. I had been walking back to my car when Spencer strode up the walk, completely oblivious to my presence. I waited, staring up at his apartment window. He had pointed it out to me once, when I gave him a ride home. Deliberately, I think. Spencer soon appeared, walking past the window. He shrugged out of his ever-present cardigan, shoving his hair out of his eyes. My mouth went dry as I watched him strip his clothing from his tall frame. Utterly shameless. Didn't he know that anyone could see him?
A Ford Taurus pulled into the lot. I walked slowly to the door of the apartment. The click of heels behind me told me it was a woman. I ignored the buzzer in favour of fiddling with my keys, pretending to search for a key that might give me access to her home. A glance upward revealed a tired looking brunette, lipstick too dark and smudged.
I smiled at her, just a tall handsome man waiting to be let in. It's amazing how trusting some people are.
The hallway was dim when I entered it, the light flickering and creating shadows of predators that didn't exist. It was easy to break into Spencer's apartment, all of that fine FBI training. Easy to take off my shoes and pad in as if I belonged here. So very easy to shake Spencer from his slumber, murmuring for him to wake up. I hadn't expected him to jerk away, frightened.
He opened his mouth to scream and I clamped a hand over the scream just in time. And he bit me, the little bastard. I slapped him, hard. Just enough to feel it, to let him know I meant business; I was done with the flirting and waiting for him. The way Spencer would walk close to me when I passed him in the office, how his hand sometimes brushed mine if he passed me the sugar in the coffee room. I don't even like sugar in my coffee.
There are no longer any distractions; no workplace problems or sharp sunlight to intrude. Just the streetlight dancing on his lovely face.
"Stay where you are," I command.
I lay over him, stroking his hair, soothing. I run my hands over his body, I'm already hard, eager to touch and taste him.
We can go slowly later, but right now I need him.
I tell him so, and kiss him before he can protest. Sweet Spencer, always worried about everyone else. But this is what I want, him and nothing but him. His palms against my chest push with surprising strength. He is shaking his head.
"Aaron, I, you've got it wrong, I'm not...-You're not what?!" I hiss.
I pull away from him, disbelieving.
He sighs and sits up.
The little tease. The little slut. Who does he think he is?! He doesn't get to play with me, flirt and tease and then just decide he's had enough when something real happens.
"Listen, Aaron, I," he starts and I hit him, my fist connecting with his beautiful mouth. He lay back, shocked, bringing on long hand up to touch his split lip.
Spencer had struggled with me, trying to squirm away, surprisingly hard rabbit punches on the side of my head, my side. So I handcuffed him to his bed. Such a handy design; a wonderfully simple metal frame that was full of possibilities, clearly designed for lovers and deviants.
I don't think he expected that. Even bound he struggled under me, trapped. I stood to strip off my pants, my boxers. I missed his heat in the short time it took to undress. Spencer began to babble: he had been caught, and he was unused to facing consequences. He brought up my family, trying to manipulate me into feeling guilty. The patronizing little bastard tried to placate me, like I was some witless unsub he could profile, like he knew me. He knew nothing. He abruptly shut up when I lay down on him, letting him feel my erection.
"This? This is what you do to me," I told him. "You don't have to deny it anymore," I assured him, "I'll leave them. I will leave it all behind, for you."
Spencer started to cry, silent tears trailing down his face. I guess he didn't realise it wasn't just about sex for me, didn't expect me to want him so much.
I kissed him tenderly.
"It will just be the two of us," another kiss, soothing his split lip with my tongue, "we can go away together."
He finally, finally, opened his beautiful lips; admittance, acceptance. I sighed with pleasure, deepened the kiss, moaning as he responded.
And then he bit me. I yelped as pain and blood filled my mouth. The rage was white-hot filling my veins, tightening my chest. Tightening my hands around his narrow throat. The rapid flutter of his pulse under my clawed hands, digging in, bruising. He struggled under me, unwilling to take his punishment. Just a little warning, a sign that I wasn't fooling around. Just enough for him to feel it. I felt it, the moment he stilled; accepting me, accepting us, and relaxing under me.
Spencer lies on the bed in front of me, utterly still. Shadows dance across his face like lace.
***