Thunderbolts and Sparks

Title: Thunderbolts and Sparks
Author: nebula99
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Rating: TV-M
Taboos: Bondage, Banging the Boss
Additional Warnings: Spoilers for Revelations
Prompt: It might have been a while since you've been loved like you should be loved for the 2007 ficathon of dooooooom
Disclaimer: They belong to somebody else and don't make me a penny
AN: Prove It prompt for 10_cliche_fics and Invisible Waves for 2x5obsessions

Hotch paused, spoon on the way to his mouth, as he felt something slide up his calf. It was definitely a foot - there were toes attached; toes that were pressing into the fabric of his pants, sliding up past his knee. He shifted slightly in his seat and then allowed his spoon to continue its journey to deliver a mouthful of dessert.

The foot was now at his thigh, pushing against his inside leg, burrowing at the warm muscle. It was a very insistent foot. He wouldn't deny that the foot felt good, but he was eating dinner with his team in the hotel restaurant. It was a little public for that kind of thing. He lifted his head and directed a mild glower at the owner of the foot. Dr. Spencer Reid smirked back at him. Hotch subtly dropped one hand under the table and took hold of the offending ankle, moving it gently away from his thigh.

Reid's eyes twinkled as the corners of his mouth lifted higher. He was enjoying this. Hotch took another mouthful of apple pie and the foot returned, probing harder than before, reaching up towards his crotch. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth, glaring a little harder at his pesky young lover. Reid's foot was caressing his balls and he really needed him to stop. Hotch squirmed backwards in his seat but Reid had long legs and the foot followed.

Hotch sighed. He could try to move the foot again, more insistently this time, but it was Reid's left foot. He would have to be very gentle and Reid knew that; he was a real minx sometimes. Hotch slid out of his seat and stood up, holding his jacket in front of his groin and trying to think about motor racing, or vacuuming.

Hotch sighed and put up a hand to stroke his lover's hair. "I know, this case has been a bitch. But we're done now and I'm all yours later." He kissed the top of Reid's head. "The storm is too bad to fly out tonight, so we're definitely staying here." He shuddered as Reid's hand slid down the crack of his ass. "Stop. Now."

Reid lifted his head. "Or what?" he asked with mischief in his voice. "If I'm bad, does that mean you'll have to use these?" He twirled a finger into the handcuffs on Hotch's belt and looked slyly up at him.

Hotch gulped. It had been a while since they had done anything like that and the sight of Reid playing idly with the cuffs sent the blood rushing to his dick. He took a slight step back. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

Sitting in the bar and watching the rest of the team chatting over a drink before bed, Hotch thought about what he and Reid were going to do when they got up to the room they were sharing.

They had done bondage scenes plenty of times before. The sight of Reid in handcuffs, twisting and moaning had once even made Hotch come in his pants, gasping and spilling before he had actually touched him. He had loved to hold the young man down, to snap the cuffs on and then tease the hell out of him. Reid had loved it too and they had done some pretty rough stuff.

And if Hotch was truly honest with himself, he had liked the signs that the restraint left on Reid's pale skin. Seeing the red marks and bruises on his wrists from the metal cuffs was enough to get him hard again. They were marks of ownership, signifiers of a night of sweat and control and exquisite torment. They symbolised how much Reid trusted him and how open and vulnerably beautiful the young man could be.

He knew Reid had liked the bruises too. He would use them as seduction - kissing and licking the dark circles on his own wrists, looking at Hotch under long lashes, working the signs of one night of sex to stimulate another. It had been a special secret, just for the two of them, and Reid had inventively started to wear his watch over his sleeve to ensure that nobody else ever saw the marks.

But now it was all so different. The last time that Reid had borne livid cuff marks on his wrists, it had not been from sex. The last time Reid had been cuffed, he had nearly died.

Hotch gave a small sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. Just the sight of Reid playing with the metal cuffs had made him hard; the thought of him bound and helpless was enticing. Hotch clenched his fingers into a fist as he felt himself getting erect: what did that say about him? What kind of person gets off on tying their lover up - barely months after they were kidnapped, restrained and tortured?

But Reid had asked for this. He was recovering, slowly rebuilding, and Hotch was desperate not to interfere with that process. He couldn't baulk at his lover's requests, not now, not while he was still so fragile. If Reid wanted to be tied up and dominated, then that's what he was going to get. To refuse would be coddling, overprotecting and worse still, an act of rejection. The young man's confidence was shaky enough already.

The rain was lashing down and the wind was roaring through the trees when Hotch and Reid made it back to the bedroom they were sharing. Hotch closed and locked the door and then hurried to close the curtains, a vain attempt to block out the storm. As he turned back to the room, he saw Reid pulling off his sweater vest and then undoing his belt.

"Strip for me," said Hotch, sitting down on the bed. This was his role, this was what they did. He could do this. He was trembling slightly but ignored it. Now was not the time to lose his nerve. He knew how much Reid was struggling to cope - more than once arriving at work late and hung over was a definite indicator of that. If this was what he needed to forget about what had happened to him, then so be it.

Reid gave a slight smirk and began to unbutton his shirt. He kept eye contact with Hotch as he shrugged it off his shoulders and unfastened his pants. Pushing them down to his feet, he stepped out of them, pausing to pull his socks off before standing up.

Hotch hid a smile at the garish socks, one green and one purple, as Reid tossed them aside. Then he lifted his gaze to Reid's crotch. This was partly to look at his cock tenting his boxers and mainly to avoid looking at Reid's feet. The bruising was gone but the young man's foot was still too strong a reminder of what had gone on in Georgia. It conjured up visions of Reid limping through a forsaken cemetery; his face twisted in pain as the doctors examined him, tears leaking out of tightly closed eyes; swearing under his breath at the unwieldy crutches; erection withering images all of them. He turned his attention instead to Reid licking his lips and slowly sliding his boxers down his legs.

Soon Reid was naked, stroking his cock and looking expectantly at Hotch. A flash of lightning showed through the curtains, highlighting Reid's pale body. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice low.

He stifled a groan as Reid dropped to his knees and quickly freed his cock. The warm mouth enveloping him felt so good and Hotch let his head drop back, eyes closed. Being almost fully dressed while his lover knelt naked before him, obedient and eager, was a turn on in itself. While he had his suit on, he was still SSA Hotchner, Unit Chief, and getting a blow job while still in FBI costume was deliciously taboo.

But he couldn't get too excited. Reid wanted the cuffs on and Hotch wanted to please Reid. Hotch moved his hand to his belt and quietly pulled off the handcuffs. Reid's tongue ran around the head of his cock and Hotch inhaled sharply. "Stop," he gasped. "Stand up."

Hotch rose to his feet along with Reid and claimed his mouth for a desperate, lip bruising kiss. He felt Reid slide his arms around his back, pulling him closer, grinding his hips against him. Hotch pushed his tongue deep into Reid's mouth, silencing him, as he grabbed the young man's wrist and pulled it firmly behind his back. He snapped on the cuff and continued the kiss, waiting for Reid to react.

As Hotch felt Reid push harder against him and moan into his mouth, he reached for his lover's other hand. He held it for a moment, hesitating. Reid had asked for this but that didn't mean he was ready. "Are you really sure?" he whispered.

Hotch took the decision to go for it, knowing how Reid hated to be cosseted and questioned. He cuffed his lover's other wrist and waited. He heard Reid inhale and hold his breath. The wind whistled harshly outside and the lovers paused, considering. Thunder grumbled in the distance.

Then Reid exhaled and dropped his forehead onto Hotch's shoulder. Both men stood for a moment, listening to Reid's harsh breathing. Hotch bit down on his bottom lip, really wanting to stop this. He was hard and yes, he was horny, but he knew Reid was steadying himself, trying to get a grip on how he was feeling. Not the ideal prelude to sex.

Hotch stroked down Reid's arms, itching to remove the cuffs, but knowing that he had to go through with this if Reid wanted it. And then Reid made a sound in the back of his throat and began to nuzzle into Hotch's neck. Green light - go ahead.

With a groan, Hotch placed his hand on Reid's shoulder and applied gentle downwards pressure. His lover lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head. Hotch gulped and then began to quickly pull his clothes off. Stripped to the waist, he took hold of the back of Reid's head and pulled him firmly towards his stomach. A shudder ran up his spine at the feel of Reid's tongue tracing faint circles across his belly and he paused to enjoy that for a moment.

But Hotch didn't want to make this last too long; not this time. He stepped neatly out of his pants and underwear, pausing to pull off his socks. Then he knelt down to face Reid and twisted the fingers of one hand into the young man's hair. He would never pull, this wasn't about hurting him, but he wanted to hold him steady: a gentle but firm method of control. Hotch had enjoyed domination games for a long time and he knew how to be rough and how to be controlling without inflicting damage.

Holding Reid's head in place, Hotch leaned to kiss him. They were hard, eager kisses, almost devouring the young man. Reid couldn't move away and had no option but to kiss him back, working frantically to keep up with the onslaught.

Grabbing hold of Reid's shoulder with his free hand, Hotch supported himself with the trembling body of his lover. Reid couldn't keep his body still and was circling his hips, letting out whimpers of need. That sound made Hotch's balls ache; the desire and the desperation were so hot. Hotch licked and sucked his way down to the base of Reid's throat, relishing the way Reid pushed his hips forwards, trying to rub himself against Hotch's groin.

Hotch kissed his way across Reid's collarbone and then dropped down to run his tongue over Reid's nipple. He paused for a moment and then bit down on the brown flesh, holding onto Reid with one hand still in his hair and the other now on his waist. Reid responded with a gasp and a push of his head back against Hotch's hand. Hotch bit again, harder, and this time Reid let out a moan and then began to whisper.

Hotch smiled inwardly and then continued tormenting the nipple, circling the hardened flesh with his tongue and then suddenly biting down. He repeated this again and again, knowing what it did to Reid.

Lifting his head, Hotch could see Reid had closed his eyes and was tilting his head back, resting in Hotch's hand. His hips were thrusting forwards and breathy moans escaped from his parted lips. Smirking slightly, Hotch slid his hand downwards to stroke the inside of his lover's thighs. Gently he caressed the warm, smooth skin, smiling at Reid's cock twitching in response.

"Not yet," growled Hotch. He bit down hard on Reid's shoulder as he leaned across him to grab lube and a condom from his pants pocket. Reid moaned loudly in response. Quickly squeezing the liquid onto his fingers, Hotch shuffled round on his knees until he was behind Reid. He altered his grip on Reid's hair to hold him steady and pushed one finger into his lover's ass.

Reid's response was to squirm and whimper, pushing back against Hotch's finger. His cuffed hands rubbed against Hotch's belly as he twisted and jerked his arms. Hotch bit again at the back of his lover's neck and added a second finger, stretching his lover rhythmically and efficiently. He slid his other hand down Reid's chest and rested in the gap between his legs.

The young man could not keep still. He whimpered with frustration, pushing his hips forward and then arching his spine and pressing his ass back, over and over again.

Hotch let out a soft groan at the sound. He loved to hear Reid like this, laid open and desperate for his lover's touch. He hooked his fingers slightly and pressed, at the same time gripping the inside of Reid's thigh tightly with his other hand.

Then Reid let his head drop and moaned loudly, a rounded, almost melodic sound. Hotch placed his palm flat on Reid's chest and pulled his lover tightly to him, sucking hard at base of his neck. He felt Reid's chest rise and fall with increasing speed.

Hotch opened the foil packet, his hands trembling slightly. Reid was panting and squirming, his hair tangled all over his face. Hotch pulled out the condom and began to slide it quickly over his dick. In his haste, he caught the thin rubber on his nail and the condom ripped.

"Shit," he muttered. He had more, but they were in his shaving kit in the bathroom. "Stay there," he growled at Reid and then he jumped up and hurried into the bathroom. It was lousy timing, but he could be quick.

"Wait," replied Hotch sharply, rummaging in the small leather bag. He allowed himself a brief smile as he extracted the condom packet and then caught sight of himself in the mirror.

The moment of anticipation was short-lived as the hotel room was suddenly plunged into complete darkness. Hotch was frozen for a moment trying to comprehend what had happened. He tried to strain his eyes, to see something, but it was impossible. There was no chink of light at all. The darkness had settled like thick blanket, smothering all light and sound, save the rain lashing down outside.

"I'm coming," replied Hotch, turning towards where he thought the bedroom was and walking smack into the door frame. "Fuck," he yelped, putting his hand up to rub his head. "Ow." Hotch bent to touch his throbbing kneecap. That had really hurt.

Despite Hotch's regular reminders, Reid had never used his safe word before. Hotch had pushed him pretty far on occasions, but Reid had never stopped him, had always taken it. Hotch shivered - Reid had to be freaked to call a halt like this.

Widening his eyes, Hotch stretched his hands out in front of him and began to move slowly towards the voice. "Spencer - it's OK. Must be a power cut. I'm coming." He kept his voice low and reassuring. The words I knew this was a bad idea flashed into his mind but that was hardly fair. He had gone along with it.

Hotch could hear the panic and tried to move faster. His hand swiped into the closet, damn, he was too far over. He made a quarter turn and then stopped. His flashlight - it would be on the nightstand. "Spencer - hold on. I'm going to get the flashlight."

Reid wasn't listening. "Aaron please, please . . . get them off . . .please . . . I don't . . . please get them off of me." He was pleading and his voice was cracking.

Hotch inched along, silently cursing this stupid place and their stupid storms. "Hold on, I'm coming." He blinked, willing his eyes to make out something, but it was no use. He tried to make his voice calm as Reid's breathing speeded up. The panic in his lover's voice was heartbreaking.

Got it. Hotch reached the nightstand and felt for the flashlight. Taking a deep breath he switched it on, swooping the beam around the room and finding Reid. "It's OK, babe," he said gently.

Reid's eyes were wide as he looked desperately at Hotch. "Get them off," he begged, his shoulders shaking from side to side as he pulled at the restraint. "Please Aaron. I don't want to do this anymore . . . " His voice faded and he sobbed again. "Please."

"Shhh," soothed Hotch, "Just let me get the keys." He sought out his pants with the flashlight and then reached into the pocket. His shoulders dropped with relief as his fingers closed around the cuff keys. He could hear Reid sniffing and whimpering, the occasional sob bursting through. "I'm coming now."

Hotch crawled over the bed and slid down to kneel beside Reid. The young man was biting his lip and trembling, his chest heaving. He was pulling and pulling at the cuffs, engaged in a futile battle to remove them. Hotch balanced the flashlight on the bed and quickly undid the handcuffs, tossing them to the floor after he released Reid's hands. Reid almost fell into his arms and Hotch pulled his lover close, pressing his face into Reid's hair and kissing him. "I got you," he murmured. "S'okay babe."

Hotch rocked gently from side to side, trying to shush and soothe the young man in his arms. He could feel the panic only just quelling, the adrenaline still bubbling like lava beneath the surface. A sudden knock at the door intruded into the darkness and he felt the body in his arms stiffen with a jolt.

"Storm must have knocked a power line down," said Morgan, "I just talked with manager and they are getting the emergency generator going. Do you guys need anything?"

He bent to kiss Reid's forehead, his face pale and tear-stained in the beam of the flashlight. Hotch tried not to think about the last time he had seen Reid's face illuminated like this in the darkness. "Come on Spence, let's get you into bed."

Once they were both under the covers, Hotch unscrewed the top of the flashlight and stood it on the nightstand, the bulb shining like a candle. Reid then wrapped his arms and legs around him like a baby monkey. "I'm sorry, Aaron," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

The next morning, Hotch was preparing to shave in the tiny hotel bathroom while Reid showered. The power had come back on suddenly, not long after Morgan had knocked on the door and they had slept with both bedside lamps lit. Hotch was getting used to sleeping with the lights on. He was also now used to restless nights, reaching out to steady the shaking and twitching body next to him, stilling and calming with low murmurs and firm caresses.

The rush of water stopped and Reid opened the shower door. Hotch held out a towel to him without looking and then picked up his razor. Concentrating, he leaned forwards and slid the razor down, cutting a clear path through the shaving foam.

Hotch looked at the reflection of Reid smiling sheepishly at him. "Well yes," he replied gently, "But as I said last night, don't worry about it." He shrugged and brought the razor down again. "You've been through a lot and that was too much for you. We tried it - it didn't work - and we can do plenty of other things."

Hotch took a breath and dipped the razor into the sink, shaking clouds of foam into the water. "Spencer," he said calmly, "I think your reaction last night should indicate that handcuffs are a bad idea."

Hotch sighed and turned to face his lover who was rubbing his hair with the towel. "You were cuffed to a chair and tortured. You don't ever need to be put in handcuffs again. It isn't something we have to do." Hotch turned back to the mirror and continued to shave. "It doesn't matter."

Continuing to shave, Hotch waited. Reid would explain when he was able to articulate whatever it was that was eating away at him. There was no point in pushing the matter, probing and interrogating - that would only make him skittish and defensive. And nobody, least of all Hotch, wants to start their day with a fight.

Reid was silent and for a few minutes the only sounds in the bathroom were Reid huffing and rubbing the towel crossly across his body and Hotch's razor dipping rhythmically into the water. Reid dropped the towel on the floor, thought better of it, hung it up neatly and then went into the bedroom.

Putting down the razor, Hotch pulled the plug and the soapy water ran out of the sink. He rinsed the remaining foam from his face and reached for some shaving balm. Squeezing a little onto his fingers he began to massage it into his skin. He wasn't disappointed in the events of the previous night, but he was worried. Reid freaking out like that had scared him and reminded him of how vulnerable his lover still was. His own culpability didn't help; he could have refused the whole scene but he hadn't. Libido had gotten the better of good sense and Hotch was ashamed at having let that happen.

"I really want to try again," he said, his face serious. "Maybe we did too much at once and the power cut didn't help. But I have to do it." He looked expectantly at Hotch and held out his arms, cuff links in his open palm.

Hotch gave a sigh and dried his hands before taking gentle hold of Reid's wrists. He lifted one to his mouth and planted a tender kiss on the slowly developing bruise. Then Hotch began to thread the silver cuff links through the holes in Reid's sleeves.

"I don't understand," he said wearily, "Why do you want to put yourself through this? What are you trying to prove?" He finished fastening the sleeves and then undid the towel wrapped around his waist. Hotch followed Reid into the bedroom and tried not wince at the tie Reid was about to put on. He had long ago learned not to mention Reid's dress sense.

Reid spoke, his voice trembling. "I have to do this because it matters. It is something I liked - we liked - and if I can't do it anymore, then that's just another part of me that's gone." He paused and swallowed hard, as if to push down the rising emotion. "If I'm trying to prove anything, it's that I can have sex without Tobias Hankel spoiling it."

Reid fumbled with his tie, yanking the end of it with annoyance. "I know we don't have to but I want to. It's part of me, part of who I am." He dropped his head and his voice became quieter. "I like rough sex - I always have. I like being restrained, I like it when you make me beg. I love being tied up, knowing you can do anything you like to me. It's what I always fantasised about. It probably sounds pathetic but I want to have handcuffs on and think about you making me come, not about him."

Pulling on his shirt, Hotch walked over to his lover and embraced him. "I understand, and it is not pathetic. But I don't want to you force yourself into doing this. Is it that important to you?" Holding tightly to Reid's shoulders, Hotch took a step back.

Reid looked up and reached out to start to button Hotch's shirt. "If Tobias had known about me - about us - he would have killed me without hesitating. I would have been an abomination and . . . and . . . and what we do together would have been a sin that I deserved to die for." His voice wavered but he continued. "Leviticus Chapter 20 verse 13 - they shall surely be put to death, their blood shall be upon them."

Reid shook his head. "No, I don't," he replied. "I have never had a problem with how I feel or who I want to have sex with. When I realised I was gay I never felt guilty or had the slightest hang up." He gave a self deprecating sigh. "My only real fear was that nobody would ever want to have sex with the freaky geek."

Smoothing his hands down Hotch's shirt, Reid managed a small smile in reply. "Good. But I can't let him take this away from me. It is one part of my life that until now has been good and for all the other ways he hurt me and is still hurting me, I just can't let him have this as well." He handed Hotch his tie.

He caressed the back of Reid's head and with his other hand, ran the backs of his fingers down his lover's cheek. Reid gave him a weak smile in reply and tilted his head, nuzzling briefly into Hotch's hand. Then they shared a chaste kiss and headed down to the restaurant.

***

Work, as usual, took over and Hotch had very little time to even spend with Reid when they got back to Virginia, let alone discuss this issue with him. The time that they did have together was too precious to spoil and so the Unfortunate Bondage Incident remained, like the elephant in the corner, unmentioned.

But Hotch was thinking about it. At first he had found it difficult to comprehend why Reid was so insistent on trying again when it had obviously distressed him to find himself alone in the dark, hands cuffed behind his back. But Reid's explanation made sense and he thought he understood why it mattered. Unlike him, Reid had never agonised about his sexual preferences, never had to feel guilty about hurting those around him because he couldn't admit to what he wanted or needed. Reid had taken his sexuality in his stride - he had enough peculiarities for this to be very far down the list. It was just one more thing that set him aside from his peers and it was nothing he could do anything about. And nor did he want to. Reid's sexuality was probably the most uncomplicated aspect of his life and he appreciated that.

The whole team knew that Reid was not OK. His experience had traumatised him greatly and although he was back at work and doing his job, he had lost his sparkle. The post-Georgia Spencer Reid was nervous, defensive, haunted. Hotch knew some of what was hurting him but not all and sometimes it tested his patience to the limit to sit back and wait for Reid to talk to him. But he had no choice about that; he couldn't force it.

He could, however, do this for him. If Reid needed to regain this part of himself, then Hotch could at least give it another try. But he had to think about it, prepare, leave nothing to chance this time.

There was another case. Another plane journey spent poring over the files. Another unfamiliar cop shop to set up in. Another hotel room with garish wallpaper and starchy clean sheets.

The team had a short time to check in and freshen up before heading out to start talking to witnesses. As usual, Hotch and Reid were rooming together. If the rest of the team had noticed something, there was no mention of it. Departmental budgets were tight and sharing rooms was encouraged. And with Hotch going through a somewhat messy divorce, it made sense for him to want some company.

As soon as they were in the room, Reid dumped his bag in the corner and flopped back onto the bed. Hotch busied himself hanging up his clothes in the closet and then starting on Reid's bag, pulling out the hastily folded shirts and trying his best to smooth out the creases as he hung them up.

Reid had flung one arm across his face and Hotch smiled at how sexy he looked with his hair tousled and his body so open. Hotch reached into his bag and tossed a gift wrapped package onto the bed next to his lover.

Reid pushed himself into a sitting position and picked up the package. His long fingers stroked down the shiny satin ribbon before pulling the bow undone. He really had no idea what would be inside and Hotch was not usually one for romantic gestures.

Pulling the metallic paper open, Reid stared for a moment at his gift. Then he lifted them out of their wrapping and examined them. He gave them a sniff - real leather and lined too. He wondered where on earth Hotch had bought them and decided that it was most likely online. Reid shook his head; leather handcuffs were so decadent and yet so Hotch.

He was always so thoughtful, and so practical. Reid smiled to himself and stood up. Then he hurried to the small hotel bathroom to wash up and brush his hair. Returning to the bedroom, he grabbed his satchel and pulled the strap across his body. Reid folded the gift wrap and placed it neatly, along with the card, in his overnight bag. The he picked up the handcuffs and placed them prominently on the pillow. It would be his way of saying thank you to his lover and if it gave the maids something to talk about, then all the better.

It had been a long day, spent interviewing and debating theories in stuffy rooms. After a hurried dinner, Hotch was thankful to shut the hotel room door behind him and spend some time concentrating on the man he loved. Reid was cleaning his teeth in the bathroom and so Hotch began to undress. Catching sight of the cuffs laid out on the bed, he grinned to himself. There was still potential for it all to go horribly wrong, but at least he was prepared this time. Placing a packet of condoms, lube and both of their flashlights on the nightstand, Hotch stood in his boxers and undershirt, waiting for Reid to join him. He had considered candles, just in case, but decided against. Setting off the smoke alarms in the hotel would be quite the mood killer.

A moment later, Reid came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts. He wrapped his arms around Hotch's waist and moved to kiss him. He tasted of peppermint toothpaste and Hotch soon pushed his tongue into his lover's mouth, eager for more of his taste.

Turning Reid around, Hotch walked him to the bed. Then, taking hold of him by the waist, Hotch picked him up and dumped him gently on the bed. Reid lay sprawled and smirking, his arms flung up beside his head. The young man's hands were palm upwards, his fingers lightly spread and curled, almost touching the leather cuffs. Hotch swallowed. He had to ask.

Leaning over Reid, Hotch switched on both bedside lamps. He double checked that the cuff key was on the nightstand and then reached up for the cord to turn off the overhead light. Then he looked at Reid, flushed and wriggling below him. "Safe word, remember? Use it if you need to - please?"

As gently as he could, Hotch reached for the cuffs and snapped one around his lover's wrist. Reid let out a sigh and stretched out his arm, helping Hotch as he threaded the cuff chain through the bars of the bedstead. Hotch paused, holding Reid's free hand, suddenly nervous.

A blanket of tender kisses, gentle and tantalising, covering his face, his neck, his shoulders. Working along one outstretched arm, pausing to nuzzle into the palm and then suck at eager fingers. Taking one long finger into his mouth he sucked hard, running his tongue around the finger tip and feeling the body beneath him jerk and gasp. He loved these hands - beautiful and expressive hands with an artist's fingers.

Making his way back up the arm, he felt the taut muscle under the skin. He rubbed his cheek against the downy hair of his lover's forearm, allowing himself a brief shudder at the sight of the leather cuff. Then he returned to the pale upper arm, caressing the bicep and kissing to the bare shoulder.

Reid turned his head, trying to reach Hotch's mouth to kiss him, but Hotch refused to give him that yet. Instead, he wrapped an arm across Reid's chest and moved down to his armpit.

Hotch rubbed his lips into the damp hair and then ran his tongue up the sensitive skin, relishing the whimper this drew from his lover. It wasn't a part of Reid's body that he usually paid a large amount of attention to and he made a mental note to involve Reid's armpits more in their lovemaking at a future date. Hotch licked again, his tongue slicking the tuft of hair, tasting the salt of fresh sweat. He was rewarded with more whimpers. He kissed deep into the exposed armpit, swirling his tongue into the damp strands, hearing the whimpers develop into soft moans.

The trail of kisses continued down past Reid's nipples, ignoring both them and the pointed way Reid raised his chest off the bed. The moans continued, deepening as Hotch nuzzled and licked at the flat stomach, nipping at the line of darker hair leading down . . . to where Hotch paused, wickedly, his mouth open.

Hips rising, Reid pushed his cock nearer to Hotch's mouth, but his lover pulled away. The moans turned to groaning sounds at Hotch burrowing his head between parted thighs. Reid spread his legs wider and Hotch placed a hand on each thigh, licking and sucking at the soft warm skin. Gasps and groans followed.

Hotch listened to the noises his lover was making and remembered how hot it had been when he had gagged him. Hearing him mew and whimper from the back of his throat had been electric, turning them both on so much that the actual penetration had barely lasted a few thrusts. But now was not the time for games like that. Just cuffing him was enough - if not actually a step too far. Struck by self doubt, Hotch paused. Who, exactly, had the cuffs been a present for? Could he be gentle? The predator within him longed to bite and twist, pushing the climax rather than drawing it out.

A jerk of Reid's hips brought him out of his musings. Hotch stole a look at the young man, who was staring down his body at him. His breathing had become shallow and he was pulling lightly at his cuffed wrists. Returning to Reid's crotch, Hotch sucked one of his balls into his mouth. He knew the pleading would soon follow.

There was urgency in Reid's voice. He was babbling, words tumbling out with no real meaning to them. He didn't really know what he was asking his lover for, but he kept on asking anyway.

Hotch loved this sound. He quickly dismissed the most recent memory of Reid pleading in a pitch dark hotel room and concentrated instead on the need in his voice now. Words were spilling out of his mouth; repeating please and oh God and Aaron in a senseless rhythm, over and over again. It was almost an incantation - transporting him, transforming him.

With the gentle chanting filling the room, Hotch kissed his way along the Reid's pale torso until he could reach a condom and lube from the nightstand. He bent to suck at Reid's nipple while he carefully rolled the condom down his cock, hearing the begging grow in intensity.

Hotch quickly lubricated his fingers and moved to lick and nuzzle at Reid's neck, slipping his hand between his lover's legs. As he circled and probed gently at the puckered skin, there was a sharp gasp from the young man. He struggled, pulling at the cuffs, planting his feet on the bed and grinding his hips. The entreaties had devolved to one word, chanting please, please, please.

Hotch paused and lifted his head, hearing the chain of the cuffs clang against the bedstead. That sound was so cold, the heavy chink of metal against metal, reminiscent of incarceration. He relaxed the finger inside his lover and waited, poised ready to grab the key and undo the cuffs.

But Reid kept on pleading, repeating the word, syllables running into each other in a seamless sound - pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. He rolled his head from side to side, his body twisting with desire. He was lost in the moment, taken deep into the whirl of sensation, thinking of nothing but Hotch touching him and touching him and touching him.

Seeing him like this, Hotch allowed himself to relax a little. He kept on probing and pushing, turning and stretching, before taking his cock in his hand and gently but firmly pressing into his lover.

The pleading stopped, replaced by a sharp gasp and then silence. Hotch bit his lip and stilled his hips. Laying himself down, covering his lover with his body, he brought his mouth to Reid's ear and began to whisper, "I love you." He kept repeating over and over again as the body beneath him relaxed.

Soon the room filled with little whimpers as Reid's hips began to lift along with Hotch's thrusts into him. Eyes closed, he turned his head to one side and then the other, damp locks of hair falling over his forehead. The pale skin was now red with arousal and he batted his fists, circling and pulling at the soft cuffs.

Hotch tried to keep his movements slow and gentle, grunting as he held himself in check. This wasn't a fuck; this was making love and there was a difference. He curled one hand around Reid's twitching cock and started to stroke, each hand movement counter to his own thrusts.

Reid's whimpers turned to soft cries and he started to toss his head, exuding need. With both men breathless, Hotch started to move faster and deeper, his hand on Reid's cock maintaining steady pressure. He was close - Reid was close. It was almost too much.

And then, Reid's feet pushed down and his hips rose off the bed and he was coming. He yelled out, yanking the cuffs and throwing back his head as he came all over Hotch's hand. Seeing him like this pushed Hotch to his own release and he moaned as his cock jerked inside his lover. Reid was still making calling sounds, his eyes tightly closed and his body trembling.

Panting hard, Hotch moved to cover Reid's body with his own, a protective shield to protect, warm and soothe him. Reid's eyes were still shut, but his eyelids were now smooth. Hotch moved slowly out of him, kissed the closed lids and reached for the cuff keys.

Once released, Reid's hands flopped onto the bed. Hotch smoothed the sweaty hair away from his forehead and kissed him gently on the end of his nose. Reid still didn't open his eyes, the breath coming audibly from his parted lips.

Eyelids fluttered and opened, then a smile. "Good. That was . . . good," whispered Reid, his voice husky. Still smiling lazily, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Hotch. "Mmmm," he groaned softly, "Stay there."

Hotch began to plant tender kisses all around the young man's face. He stroked his thumb along Reid's cheekbone and let out a sigh. "You OK, babe?" he said softly. There was a feeble nod.

He rolled off Reid to remove the condom and felt Reid's arm snaking around his waist. Turning back, he pulled the sleepy body close to him. Feeling Reid respond, he stroked his hair back off his face and whispered, "I love you."

Hotch stayed awake for a little while, his hand on Reid's chest, feeling the soft and rhythmic rise and fall. Tonight's sleep might not be disturbed, but without a doubt the nightmares would be back. Reid had a long way to go and sometimes Hotch wondered if he would make it.

Reid was finding his way, trying to find a firm foothold in the treacherous moraine he had been thrown into and all Hotch could do was to stay close by, ready to catch him if he slipped and fell. He couldn't find the answers for him, he couldn't ease the path, he could only be there. Hotch knew the kind of strength it had taken to survive those days and nights in Georgia, but when the adrenaline and the exhilaration of still being alive have worn off, the burden of the experience weighs heavy.

After kissing the top of his sleeping lover's head, Hotch settled back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. He knew he was being pessimistic and he hoped sincerely that his fears would be unfounded. But he knew that whatever happened, whatever Reid decided to do, he wouldn't have to do it alone.