Title: Self Service
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: FRAO
Type: Slash
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Summary: "A jerk in the hand is worth two in the bush" Mark Twain.
A/N: Christmas present for slash_girl. Merry Christmas!

***


Aaron Hotchner opened his eyes to darkness of the hotel room. He was finding it difficult to drift off to sleep properly - he would doze for a little while and then rouse into wakefulness again.

It must be this case, it was unsettling all of them. Hotch closed his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep.

Gradually he became aware of a sound coming from the other side of the room. It was a rhythmic sound, soft and brushing, like fabric moving.

swish swish swish

Hotch frowned with the effort of listening in the dark.

swish swish swish

Then there was another sound, a hitching breath. It was coming from Reid's bed. For a split second, Hotch wondered if the young man was ill, or having a nightmare. Then he realised.

Spencer Reid was masturbating.

Spencer Reid was bashing the bishop, choking Old Faithful, wagging the rocket, sharpening up the pencil, whacking the dude, whomping the one handed air guitar . . . the list of euphemisms was endless. But there was no mistaking what Reid was doing.

Listening hard, Hotch could hear Reid's breathing quicken as his hand moved faster under the covers. He didn't want to embarrass him by letting him realise he could hear, so he shifted carefully and quietly onto his back and, turning his head slightly, opened one eye.

The room was too dark to see properly but he could make out the outline of Reid lying on his back, his hand moving rapidly beneath the blankets. Hotch smiled to himself; Reid must have thought he was sound asleep. Hotch had jerked off sometimes when they were away from home as well, but he always did it in the bathroom with the door locked and the shower running if the team were sharing rooms.

He wondered what Reid was thinking about - if this was purely for the relaxation value or if he was too horny to stop himself?

There was a faint whimper from the other bed and Hotch concentrated, aware that the movements from Reid's bed were increasing in speed. Then, as he squinted in the dark, Reid's body froze and he held his breath before tossing his head and making a strange strangled squeaking sound.

Hotch resisted the urge to hand his room mate a Kleenex. Instead, he closed his eyes and rolled over, hearing Reid reaching for a tissue, rummaging in and then rearranging the bedclothes.

Very soon, he could hear Reid's soft slow breathing from the other bed. Hotch let out a sigh. The jerk off had sent Reid to sleep but had meant that he was now wide awake.

Hotch slipped a hand down into his pyjama pants, feeling his hard cock. He gave it an experimental stroke. No, he couldn't, not here, not with Reid in the next bed.

His coyness made him smile. Reid had done it - why couldn't he? Hotch stroked again and then stopped. This was a bad idea.

Determined to override his libido, Hotch closed his eyes tighter and tried to go back to sleep.

Two minutes later, he opened them again. He wasn't at all sleepy. He had read somewhere that the way to get to sleep was to try to keep your eyes open as they will close of their own accord, so Hotch decided to give it a go.

It didn't work. Every time he started to drift off, the thought of Reid jerking off in the next bed woke him up again. Hotch let out a soft groan and rolled over in annoyance. His dick was still rock hard and he was almost itching with desire. He was trying to think of the most unsexy images that he could - crime scenes, George Bush - but somehow every thought returned to Reid touching himself.

Huffing a sigh, Hotch yanked at the covers, pulling them up to his ears as though that would help him to sleep. He had to have more self control than this. Then he heard movement in the next bed. Damn, he'd woken Reid up.

He heard Reid pad to the bathroom, switch the light on and close the door. Then he listened to him pee and the thought of Reid pulling his pyjamas down and handling his cock was just too much. Hotch threw back the covers and practically jumped out of bed.

As Reid came out of the bathroom he almost walked straight into his room mate.

"Hotch!" he squeaked, backing up against the wall as Hotch came closer to him.

"You woke me up," said Hotch softly, taking hold of Reid's arms and pressing his body against him. "I heard you."

"You did?" gasped Reid, his eyes wide.

"Yeah," breathed Hotch, "What were you thinking about to get you all hard and horny?"

As Reid bit his lip and looked uncomfortable, Hotch wondered if he had perhaps misread the times he had caught Reid staring at him. Maybe the young man wasn't interested at all, in which case he was going to have to pretend he was sleepwalking and not at all in control of his actions.

Then Reid spoke, in an almost inaudible whisper. "You. I was thinking about you."

Hotch smirked and pressed his erection against Reid's crotch, pleased to feel that it was turning the young man on. "What were you thinking about me?" he asked in a low voice.

"Um, about you touching me," whispered Reid, as his hands slid up to Hotch's shoulders.

"Like this?" asked Hotch and he pushed his hand into Reid's pyjamas, taking hold of his cock.

Reid nodded and then groaned as Hotch moved his hand up and down, thrusting his hips forwards.

Feeling naughty, Hotch leaned towards Reid and gently kissed him. Then he told him, "I want you to do it again. Go back to your bed and jerk yourself off - imagining me touching you."

Reid frowned at him. "Really?"

"Yeah," growled Hotch. "But this time I want to watch." Grasping Reid's shoulders, he manoeuvred him towards the bed and Reid lay down on his back.

Sitting on his own bed, Hotch leaned across to switch on the bedside light. It cast a dim glow over the room - just enough so that he could see, but not so bright as to make Reid feel as though he was on a stage.

"Now stroke your cock and pretend that it's me," ordered Hotch, deliciously turned on by Reid's obedience. He freed his own cock from his pyjama pants and took hold of it.

Reid closed his eyes and began to masturbate, tentatively at first. Hotch just stared at him, almost unconsciously copying his movements.

The room was almost silent except for both men's heavier breathing. Then Reid let out a faint moan and Hotch felt his cock twitch in his hand. "How does it feel?" he asked.

"Good," gasped Reid, eyes still closed. "Feels . . . good." His hand moved faster and he moaned again. "It's good."

Hotch followed his rhythm, noting that Reid moved his hand slightly faster than Hotch would have done but paused between each stroke. He smiled as Reid brought his other hand down to cup his balls - everyone had their own individual style. Dismissing thoughts of scoring for artistic style and technical merit, Hotch squirmed and continued to stroke steadily.

Reid began to whimper softly, catching his breath and then letting it out with a needy sound.

"Tell me," urged Hotch. "Tell me when you're close."

Reid's response was to tug at his balls and stroke faster. "Nearly . . . oh God," he gasped. "I'm gonna . . . oh God."

Hotch pulled harder at his cock, feeling his balls tighten. "Look at me," he said, "Let me see you."

Reid turned his head and opened his eyes. "I'm there," he choked, "I'm gonna . . . oh oh oh . . . " Then his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. "Fuck!" he breathed as he came all over his hand and stomach.

At this, Hotch let his head drop back and groaned loudly. His orgasm made his body shake and he kept a hold of his cock for a moment as the sticky fluid trickled down through his fingers.

Then he slowly lifted his head and grinned at Reid, who smiled nervously back. Hotch leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a bunch of tissues, handing half of them to Reid. They both cleaned up in silence and then Reid sat up.

"Did you, um," he began, "Ahh, was I okay?"

Hotch smirked at the eagerness to please. "Actually, Spencer," he said, "I'm shocked."

Reid looked horrified.

"I've never heard you curse before," continued Hotch with a wicked grin.

Reid stared at him and then his eyes narrowed. "I've never been asked to perform before."

Hotch shrugged. "Touche," he replied. Then he pulled back the covers on his bed. "It's getting late," he said. "My bed or yours?"

Reid hesitated and then scrambled into Hotch's bed, cuddling up to him. "Are you sure?" he asked, "Only I think I talk in my sleep."

"Yeah, you do," nodded Hotch. "But that's okay. As long as I can do this to shut you up." And he kissed Reid softly on the lips.

Reid's response was to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into Hotch's mouth before pulling back. "I think that might work," he said with a smile. "Goodnight."

"Night," replied Hotch, pulling the young man closer and offering silent thanks for the joys of self service.

***