Work Text:
Traffic was a fucking nightmare, but at least you're here. People were moving slowly this morning for a reason unbeknownst to you. Your coffee is the only thing keeping you sane so far, and you're pretty sure it's by mere placebo.
You set your bag on your desk with a heavy sigh, saying your lazy hellos to the girls. You guess Morgan's in his office since he isn't here.
“Where's Rossi?” you wonder briefly as you switch your computer on.
“Hotch,” Emily mumbles. You hum.
“Spence isn't here today?” JJ wonders as she glances around for your boy genius.
You shake your head, plopping down in your chair with your arm thrown over the back. “No, he had to stay home,” you answer. “Not feeling too well.”
Emily turns, raising a brow. “He's not sick, right?”
You hum, tilting your head slightly. You busy yourself with your password. “Not exactly.”
You hear her before you see her. She's wearing something dangly today.
“Where is my cutie patootie?” She sounds playfully vexed. “He hasn't come to see me yet.”
“Wow, everyone is worried about my boyfriend today,” you say, turning in your chair to face all your girls.
“Well, your boyfriend doesn't miss work without plenty of notice,” Emily replies.
You purse your lips, turning away to focus on your work. You're sure there's plenty of it today. “Something came up…”
There's a very brief silence. JJ chuckles, catching your unintended insinuation. “Oh…” she says, “was that something him?”
You crinkle your nose, turning right back around to show her how unimpressed you are by her joke. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”
You probably should have confirmed or denied because now they're very interested. To be fair, it was a rather inappropriate response to respond to (not that that has ever stopped any of you from prying into the other's personal lives).
Penelope’s face shifts from her confusion into something rather mischievous. “Oh. Oh! Oh.”
Emily leans forward, a smirk on her lips as she sets her elbow on her leg. “Why aren't you staying home then?”
You cross your legs, your foot over your knee to pull close to you. “Proving a point.”
“Oh,” Penelope says again. “Oh.”
“Are you going to keep saying ‘oh’?” you question, shaking your head at her.
She sits on your desk, her enthusiasm leaking out of her ears. Maybe if you let it, she'll deflate and have to go refill your air supply.
“Yes,” she nods definitely. “Because—Oh, my God. I knew you were both little freaks.”
She is way too excited about your sex life.
You roll your eyes at her. “What's freaky about me proving a point by coming to work?”
“The fact that your point–” she pokes you, “–is so freaky.”
Emily and JJ are eating this up. They've both fully abandoned their work to turn toward you and pry. JJ’s got her legs crossed, Emily's got hers spread as she leans forward. They're all holding coffee mugs in their hands in place of tea cups.
“What’d he do?” Emily asks. She's bobbing her brows.
You laugh, covering your face with your hand as you sigh. “If I tell you, you cannot tell Morgan. He will never let Spence live it down.” Poor Spencer would have to go through that every day. It's just mean.
JJ’s the first to respond. “Deal.”
“He's getting nothing outta me,” Emily nods.
“You have my silence.” Penelope pretends to lock her mouth with a key. She stuffs said imaginary key in her bosom.
“Promise?” you warn.
“Yes!” she exclaims. “My lips are sealed. That's what the key was for.”
You sigh, trying to hold back your hesitant smile as you go through the morning. “The…” you chuckle lightly. “The heat snuck up on us this morning.” Their understanding comes in various hums and mumbles. “Obviously, I'm a little hot, too. I told him I would call in to be with him, and he agreed because,” you lick your lips, effectively conveying your slight annoyance, “I'd likely ‘be too frayed to focus anyway’.”
“Oo.”
“Yikes,” Penelope winces.
You nod. “And I told him that I could last longer than him. He pulled out all his statistics, said that my ‘kind’ was statistically less controlled at this time than his. I took that as a challenge.”
JJ hums, “So would I if I were in your shoes.” She brings her cup to her lips.
“Please,” Emily scoffs. “If my girlfriend said that to me, it would be all over for her.”
You shrug. “I told him that I'd last the day without so much as a text. First to make contact loses.” You glance at your phone, searching for anything and finding nothing. “He's doing well so far. I thought he'd tap out after the first hour. He was really bad this morning.”
“Only…” Emily checks her watch, “seven more hours to go.”
It's only been an hour since you left the house. One hour. Singular.
This morning has been so slow, and it's only been an hour.
“Seven?”
You might give up now.
Emily chuckles, though she's sympathetic to your cause. “Hang in there. Make us proud.”
Penelope shrugs. “Hey, chicks before private parts and all that, but I will be rooting for Spencer. I have faith in him.” She makes a fist to show her firm stance in this race.
JJ sighs. “That's sweet, Pen, but he'll probably tap out within the next hour. I know I probably would.” She shrugs. “But it's not for a lack of trying.”
Penelope laughs at that. “And so would I, but he's strong. Right?”
You turn back around to face your computer, snickering to yourself. “You should see him in bed.”
You hold your hand out behind you. Emily smacks it before swiveling in her own chair. JJ and Penelope roll their eyes. She scoots off your desk to leave.
~
When your phone rings, “Penny” is shining on your screen like she's already in your face. You answer.
“I need news. Anything yet?”
You roll your eyes. She hadn't even waited for a hello. “You called me for this?”
“Has he texted you?” she insists.
Your leg starts jumping. “Nothing yet.”
It's a little frustrating. You've been here for how long? Spencer was about to burst this morning. After he'd proposed his little facts, you didn't even help him out before you left. Now he hasn't called or texted or even asked about you through any of your friends.
Penelope is ecstatic. “See?” She squeals.
“He's still got another three hours,” you say. “He'll break.”
“Oh, my wonder boy?” She giggles. “Never.”
You run a hand down your face at her support of him. It's sort of annoying because she's sort of right. Spencer is very stubborn when he wants to be. That's what happens when you know everything.
She hangs up on you. You put your phone down with a sigh and focus in again on your work. If you don't, you think you might lose (which would never happen).
“Pen?” Emily mumbles.
“Who else?”
~
It's the end of the day. The sun will be gone by the time you make it home. Not a single peep.
You're surrounded by the girls as you all step into the elevator. Penelope starts to say something, but you see Derek first.
“The door, the door, the door!” you whisper-shout.
You all start jabbing the close-door button, and you think briefly that you'll break it. All the boys look on, entirely taken aback by such behavior.
“Wait. Hold on!” The doors close in Derek's face.
You let out a breath of relief.
“He actually did it,” JJ smiles.
Emily shrugs, though she sighs a little. “I'm impressed.”
“No. No,” you wag your finger. “Not yet. The deal is no contact, not no texting. When I get home, he'll be all over me, and then he'll lose.”
Your annoyance is funny to them.
Penelope almost whines. “First to touch? That's evil.”
Emily doesn't sympathize. “But worth it. Gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Wait, so what happens if you win?” JJ wonders.
“Spencer has to wash the dishes for a month No questions asked.”
“Oh.” Penelope hums, then she sighs. “Underwhelming.”
Emily leans against the wall. “I thought he already does dishes.”
“He does,” you say. “Gladly, I might add, because he knows I hate them.”
The doors slide open on the main floor. They continue to follow you.
“Then what's the challenge?” Emily asks.
You shrug. “Dignity.” Your car beeps as you press on the key fob.
“Oh, please,” JJ scoffs. “It's pride. She just wants to prove she's better than him ‘cause she's an Alpha.”
You don't look at her. “Two things can be true.”
“So what's the real deal, huh?” Penelope’s voice shifts down, and her nose crinkles in a gremlin-like manner. “Loser gets down and dirty? Are we talking who'll cry first?”
You all turn to look at her. Her smirk fades a little, and she rolls her eyes with a scoff. “What? I might be rainbows and unicorns but ya girl gets down in poundtown.”
JJ’s brows raise. She smiles as she nods, “Alright, then.”
To be honest, the parameters of the deal were fuzzy. Whatever you propose, Spencer will love. Whatever Spencer proposes, you will love. You're compatible in that way.
The ideas are making it hard to pretend you've got it together.
“I guess we'll never know.” Emily leans on your car, crossing her ankles.
“Know what?”
Morgan's voice breaks the four of you from your huddle. You turn to him as he comes forth, the Hotch and Rossi in tow. He puts his hands on his hips.
“What do you mean?”
Derek scoffs, as if to say “don't play with me”. You look at him expectantly, and he just shakes his head at you. “You said you guess you'll never know.”
You continue to play dumb. It's rather fun that way. “What won't you know?”
Derek crosses his arms over his broad chest. He raises a brow at all of you, waiting for someone to break and not expecting it to come from you or Emily.
“Does it have something to do with the kid?” He glances at Penelope, and you have to fight the urge to stare her down and remind her of the deal.
But alas. “Hearing you call him ‘kid’ in this context is really tripping me up.”
“So it is!”
“Penelope!” you scold.
She winces, covering her face to hide her blush and her smile. “I'm sorry!” Everyone's laughing by now.
You sigh, turning back to Derek. “Spencer is fine. Hotch knows. He was a little under the weather this morning.”
Everyone looks at Hotch. His face is as blank as ever. Until it isn't.
It is so, so slight. But the faintest glimmer of a smirk curves his lip, and you know it's over. The traitor.
“Oh-ho!” Derek claps. “I saw that.” He turns to you. “You mean longin’ to be under those sheets?”
You think it's funny that Derek thinks he's funny.
“Good job, Garcia,” JJ laughs.
“Sorry!”
Emily pokes fun. “Hotch, what happened to poker face?”
His hands come up. His smile is wide.
“It's fine. Spence is fine,” you insist. You begin to realize that it has been all day since he's seen you, and he's probably going to lose his mind soon. “And if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure he's doing okay.”
Derek laughs, lightly smacking your shoulder. “Go rock his world, girl.”
Penelope raises a stern finger to him, “You are in time out, mister!”
“Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow. “Well, hopefully I can be in time out with you. How's that sound?”
They both walk away cheerfully. Derek glances over his shoulder at you, waving and then pretending to zip his lips. You smile back at him. At least Spencer can live in relative peace then.
Emily nudges your shoulder with hers. “Make us proud.” Her phone chimes. You watch something in her face change as she sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Speaking of which, I have to get home.”
She leaves abruptly, making haste in getting to her car to what you believe is going to be a good night for her.
JJ laughs as she leaves. “Still rooting for Spence.”
You look at Hotch and Rossi. “He'll be in tomorrow,” you promise.
“Oh!” Rossi’s brows shoot up, and they both laugh heftily. “Okay, then.”
“Take care. Both of you,” Hotch says. “And let me know if he's still…sick.”
You purse your lips as you nod. “Will do.”
Rossi starts backing up, wagging his finger at you as he does. “You two have fun now. But not too much fun.”
You roll your eyes. “Thanks, Gramps.”
“Hey. Respect your elders.”
Hotch laughs again. “Have a good night.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder as they both turn to leave. You open your door, stepping inside as you wave your goodbyes.
~
“Spence?” You peek your head past the door, looking around the living room to find him absent. “Baby, I'm home.”
When you close the door behind you, you're hit with it. His scent is everywhere. It's like he decided to rub his body all over every square inch of the house. If you weren't hot before, you definitely are now.
You press your thighs together, placing a hand on the wall to support you as you try to focus. How were you supposed to win if he has scented the whole house? You know he did it on purpose, too. He did this last time, when you actually stayed home. You didn't leave the bed for two days. (When you did leave, it was only because you got called in for a case.)
It's bad when you get to the bedroom. The door is closed, and you can smell it leaking out of the crack under the door. You think maybe you'll hold your breath when you get inside, but it seems highly illogical, so you don't.
As you push the door open, you're almost dizzy with the scent. “Oh, my,” you mutter, your eyes finding a lump in the bed surrounded by clothes and blankets. “It's hot in here. You should really open a window.”
Spencer sits up. His chest is bare, so are his legs, and you assume the rest of him. His hair is a tousled mess on his head. He looks almost precious like this.
“You're late,” he states plainly. He looks more grieved than he does upset.
“Sorry, baby. Got caught up talking.” You walk past him to get to the window, cracking it open to let some fresh air into the room before you lose. You turn to him, your hands on your hips as you smile. “Are you hungry? Been wanting to cook all day, for some reason.”
He shakes his head. He almost looks tired. His face is pinkish. “I'm not hungry.”
“No?” You lean against the side of the bed, facing him with a tilted head. “What's wrong? You look upset.”
He shakes his head weakly. “I'm not upset. I'm just… I want…” His voice is slightly slurred.
You bend down to him, so close that you can smell every little thing on him. Conditioner in his hair, lotion and sweat on his skin, you. He's almost shaking when your faces are so close that he thinks you'll kiss him.
“You look like you're burning up,” you mutter, keeping your breath shallow. “You sure you're okay?”
He wishes you would touch him. Any touch. It didn't even have to be a kiss. You could put the back of your hand on his forehead. You could brush your knuckles over his cheek. Anything.
You'd have to admit, you're wanting the same thing. But, no. He started it. You're not going to finish it.
“Please.”
Oh, what music.
You raise a brow, tilting your head to the other side. “What's that?”
“I'm sorry. I was wrong.”
You contain your grin. You play dumb, looking over his face and humming. “About what, sweetheart?”
He shakes his head. “I didn't last longer. I tried, but I couldn't.”
“That’s not true,” You see him start to lean forward. You pull back, gutting gently. “You didn't text me. Not once. You didn't call anyone. I haven't heard a thing.”
He almost whines. “Are you angry with me?”
“Angry?” you smile. “Of course not . That was the challenge. I can't be mad just because you tried to win.”
You linger there a moment, but it's getting to be too much. You straighten your spine slowly. You almost mess up as you reach your hand up to stroke his cheek, stopping halfway just to drop it back to your side. You sigh and walk away.
“How were you,” you wonder, “while I was gone?”
“Please. It hurts.”
He sounds so sad, you almost give in just because. You don't want him hurting. But you have a point to prove. Besides, the longer you wait it out, the better he'll be by the time you're done with him.
So you continue. “What hurts?” You slip your shoes off by the door, stretching your arms over your head with a long sigh.
“Everything hurts.” He can't think straight. It's becoming too much.
“Poor baby,” you mutter.
He needs you to do something, but he doesn't want to accept defeat. It's not fully a conscious decision. Spencer has always had trouble asking for help. It's what happens when you know everything. It's just more fun for him when he doesn't feel like he's burning from the inside out.
“I wasn't good,” he tries. “I tried to fix it on my own, but I couldn't. I knew I couldn't, and I tried anyway.”
You hum. “That's okay. What else were you going to do? Wait for me?”
“I'm supposed to.”
You shrug. “You are supposed to.” You walk to the edge of the bed, tilting your head at him. “But you didn't.”
“Please,” he mumbles, moving closer. He holds his hands out, palms up to offer them to you.
“I'm not falling for that, Spencer. If you want me to help, you know how to do that.” Any second now. “Don't you?”
Spencer just stares at you for a second, his face seemingly pained with his need. He sits up on his knees, the blankets falling away from him as he cradles your face in the palms of his hands.
Your lashes flutter at the feeling of his soft hands on your cheeks, but you continue to watch him, your face blank.
He gives in. “Please.”
You cup his elbow with your hand. With a sigh, Spencer leans in and captures your mouth in his. It's hot and rough, full of a raw desire for the other.
He's insistent in the way he kisses you. If he hadn't been so needy before, you'd think he was making you concede. His hand cups the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he brings you flush against his body.
You let him move you for now, setting your arms over his shoulders as you run your fingers through his hair.
When you grasp a handful of his soft, brown locks, he whimpers when you pull it back. You have to fight the urge to clench your teeth. “Shh, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips. You keep him firmly in place, kissing his forehead and his nose and his lips. “You weren't very good today, were you?”
You feel his body tense against you. “You are angry.”
You shake your head, rutting gently. “I'm not angry with you.” You let go of his hair to glide your fingertips along his hairline. “I'm just disappointed.”
He tugs at the hem of your shirt. “That's not better.”
You smile. “It's not, is it?” You pinch his chin in your hand, brushing your fingers along the length of his neck. “But don't worry, baby, we're gonna fix that together, okay?”
He nods. “Okay.”
You kiss him quickly before stepping out of his grasp. “Lie back.” Spencer sits back on the bed, awaiting you with pleading eyes. You smile. “I'm gonna go get ready for you. When I come back, I want you to be right there. Okay?”
He nods. “Okay.”
“Good.”
~
When you return, Spencer is laying back against the headboard like he's dying of the plague. You lean your bare body against the doorframe, sighing gently as you watch him.
You gently knock on the wall, bidding his eyes open as he turns his head to you. His breath hitches, catching again as he sits up some more.
Slowly, you make your way to the bed, climbing on top of the sheets and crawling over to him. Your lips meet as you straddle his waist, hovering over him as you relish in the closeness.
With a feather light touch, you reach down to take his cock in your hand. He winces, inhaling sharply through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut. You pull back to look at it, swollen and weeping. It looks painful, and you suspect it is. “Oh,” you sigh lightly. “Look at what you did to yourself, baby. How will I be able to do anything with this? You're already ready to burst.”
He whines. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” He gasps woefully when your thumb brushes the head. “Can you fix it?”
You do not envy him. Your clit is aching, your nipples are peaked, and you'll start sweating any moment now—but Spencer is suffering. He really needs this, and you're about to be cruel.
Oh, well. At least he'll learn a lesson.
You sigh, letting go of him. “I have an idea. But I need to be warmed up first, yeah?”
You kiss him before throwing your leg from over his body. He sits up, switching spots with you to let you sit against the headboard, your legs spread wide. You've been needing this all day, but you can't admit to that yet. At least Spencer had the whole house, filled with your scent in every fiber of fabric or every splinter of wood. You've been trapped at the office with nothing but his desk too far away from you to keep you company.
Spencer scurries to the spot between your legs. He might as well be salivating with how excited he is to be there. He slips his arms underneath your thighs, scooping them up and pulling you in close. Before he does anything, he looks up at you. “May I?”
He asks so sweetly. It'd be cruel not to oblige.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Spencer's mouth is on you in a second, his hot tongue laving through your folds and his lips suckling on your clit. He's eager and desperate to taste you, to run his mouth over your cunt and cover himself in you.
You moan as you card your fingers through his hair, bucking your hips up into his mouth every time he moans right back. He eats you out like you're a feast fit for a king, licking and sucking and slurping you up.
“Oh, fuck. That's it, baby. Keep going.” You huff, savoring each flick of his tongue. “Good. Good boy.”
He makes a dreadful sound, so filled with pleasure that slick and spit seep from you like sap. You grip his hair tight, encouraging him with grinding hips and deep moans and fluttering folds. “C’mon, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” He plunges his tongue inside of you, moaning into your dripping cunt.
He's always been very eager to do this, to taste you and to lick you whole. He's always been very good at this. You're on the verge already—all the pent of desire between the two of you makes it all the worse.
When you cum, he's all over you. His tongue and his lips devour you. Your thighs clamp around his head so tight, you think that you'll crush his skull. Not that he'll mind much. He's always enjoyed being in this position—you think he'd consider it a wonderful death.
The pleasure rushes through your body and makes you tremble as you arch your back and soak in the feeling of it all. And when the trembling has eased, you let out a heavy sigh and guide Spencer away before he works toward a second or fifth orgasm. He will, and he has.
“Good. Good job, baby,” you smile drunkenly, carding your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you. His face is pink, almost darker. His chin and nose glisten with your arousal. You kiss it from his face.
He stares at you like your approval is going to make him cum all on its own. His lashes are fluttering, and he looks like he's barely holding on to reality.
You kiss his forehead to bring him back again. “Now lie back, and let me take a look.”
Spencer does as he's told. He sits up and trades places with you once again. As he lays against the pillows, you shuffle through clothes and blankets to half-straddle his legs.
He's gotten worse (as you supposed he would). When you touch his aching cock, he winces again. “Ah!” he exclaims, like you'd just hit him in the gut.
You shush him gently, using your fingertips to brush over the length of him. His arousal is pooling at the tip of his weeping cock. You do not envy him right now. You do pity him.
Though not enough to give him what he wants.
You drag your fingertips gently along his cock, grazing your thumb along the head and watching his belly tense and un-tense. You lean down, pressing your lips to his chest, and then to his belly, and then to his lower belly.
He whines when your breath fans over his erection, even worse when your lips kiss the base of his cock, and then come back up to kiss the head.
He's muttering little pleas under his breath, but he's too unfocused to form any actual sentences. You scarcely lick and suck on him, not nearly enough to get him off, but enough to elicit desperate moans and whimpers from your poor boy.
Your fingers curl around him, teasing the veins running underneath his cock or gliding gently over his balls. He's trembling, he needs you so bad.
You really should just put him out of his misery, but you find it too sweet right now. You clench your thighs and bite your lip. You bring your own free hand to your clit and rub inefficient circles over the bundle of nerves. It won't be enough right now to help you, but it sure does drive him crazy.
Spencer can't keep up with his own breath. He struggles to keep it steady when you touch him like you do. Every time you think he'll cum, you grip the base of his cock until that malcontent fills his eyes, and then you start again. You've done it a lot thus far, he's so close to the edge that everything you do nearly sets him off.
You stroke his length with a lazy, limp hand as you look down on him. “How's that? How do you feel, honey?”
Sweat sticks to his forehead, his neck—he's covered in it. His eyes are dazed. You're not entirely sure he's present right now. He's definitely not here enough to string together a coherent sentence on the first try.
“Please,” he whines. “I need it. Need you.”
There's no emphasis, or perhaps the whole thing is an emphasis. He's too far gone for you to tell.
“Yeah?” You try to catch his line of sight. His eyes find you and stick to your face, but you can tell it's not quite processing fully. “That's not what it felt like today.” You shake your head, tutting as you keep stroking, slowly building your pace. “You said you could last without me. Now look at you: you can't even make a full sentence.”
You grip the base of his cock as you feel him beginning to buck into your hand. He groans, clenching his teeth and slamming his eyes shut. “‘M sorry. I'm s-sorry.”
“You are?” You sweep the pad of your thumb over the slit in his tip. “Sorry about what?”
He sits up on his elbows. “What I said. I was wrong,” he insists.
You tilt your head just as you flick your wrist. You watch the muscles in his neck tense. “What were you wrong about, Dr. Reid?”
His hand reaches out to hold your side, grasping without grabbing you. “P-Please.”
You lean forward, pulling his face close to yours as you continue to stroke your fingertips along the underside of his cock. “No. You don't get anything from me until you say it.”
His breath is entirely unsteady. He struggles to keep up as he makes these pitiful sounds. “Omegas don't have more discipline,” he huffs out, his words coming in a rush in an attempt to get them out. “I was wrong. I would-wouldn't last longer than you. I didn't. I lost, I was wrong.”
His hair sticks to his forehead. He looks like he might start crying.
“Good,” you smile, brushing the hair from his face and pressing a kiss to his temple. His nose nuzzles in the crook of your neck, his lips stick to your own damp skin. “Good boy. So good for me.” He whines lightly, worse when you rub his tip. “I just need you to do one more thing for me now, okay? Can you do that?”
He looks at you with glossy eyes. “Yes. Anything.”
You smile gently, your face unchanging as you simply say, “Apologize.”
His brows pull together. A tear rolls down the side of his face. “I did.”
You shake your head. “No,” you squeeze his base, “you said you're sorry, and that you were wrong.” He sighs shakily. “I want an apology. A good one. What did you do? Why did you do it? Why won't you be doing it again?”
He whimpers when you tickle his balls with your fingertips, pulling your hand away to watch his face scrunch up discontentedly before continuing again.
“C’mon, baby,” you encourage.
“I-I’m sorry for saying I don't n-need you,” he stammers. “I do. I thought I knew everything, but I don't. And-and–”
You raise your brows. “And what, Spencer?”
“And I won't do it again because–” His words are interrupted by a moan when you tug on his cock.
“Because what, huh?”
He places his hand on your cheek, gazing up at you with teary eyes and a face red as cherries. “Because I need you. Because I love you. Please, I love you.”
Your hand stops entirely, looking upon him with softened eyes and a gentle face. You bend down to whisper against his lips. “You promise?”
“I promise,” he breathes. “Fuck, I love you.”
You set a hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb over the reddened skin and easing hair from his face. His face is so warm, he's burning beneath your palm. “I love you, too, Spencer,” you smile. He hums into your mouth as you kiss him, leaning into you and your warmth. He missed you so much.
“See?” You cup his neck in your hands, cradling him in your palms as you look over him. “That wasn't so hard, now was it?” You kiss him again, but he's shaking beneath you. You hover above him, straddling his lap and placing a hand on his chest.
“You ready?”
“Yes!” he exclaims, grabbing at your sides and letting his hands feel your hot skin. “Yes, please.” He starts to ramble again.
“Shh. It's okay, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips.
You line his cock with your pussy, almost as needy as him as you anticipate the feeling. You sink down on him, and you're so dreadfully wet and aching that he slips right in with ease.
You both moan, long and deep sounds that reverberate in your chests. Your eyes fall shut, your folds flutter around him, your mouth parts. A gentle curse falls from your lips, and Spencer is glad he isn't the only one who needed this so bad.
He sits deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cock. He's so hard, you can feel him pulsing inside of you. His hands take hold of your waist and squeeze so hard that you think you'll bruise. You clench around him and try to keep your breath steady.
He really needs you to stay focused right now, you know it. You set your hands on his belly, holding his close as you slowly begin to grind yourself in him.
He really isn't going to last long. You've been teasing him for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, pulling him to the edge just to ease it and watch him suffer. You'll be surprised if he holds out the first minute.
“That’s it, baby,” you sigh, your voice a little pitchy with your own pleasure. He grasps your hips and guides you a bit as you roll your hips steadily atop him. Your gentleness only lasts a moment. In the next, you're grinding atop him like you’re the one who's been trapped in the house all day begging for an Alpha to come help you.
Your sounds mix with his, almost as pitiful as you both whine and moan, blinded by the pleasure finally being awarded to you.
Spencer's head tosses back into the pillows. He clenches his jaw and tries to stifle his moan as he holds your hips down on top of him. You grip his shoulders, gasping as he cums inside of you. He moans your name, grabbing at flesh like he's kneading dough.
You shush him gently, easing your pace just enough to let him come down. Once his breaths settle down, you kiss him as you start again.
If there's one thing you love about this time of the month, it's how fast Spencer recovers. He can go for rounds and rounds at a time before he needs to rest.
You pick up Spencer's hand, guiding it to your belly as you press his palm into you. “You feel that?” you mutter, adjusting his hand. “That's you. That's you inside me. You're so—Ah!—so fucking deep, baby. Making me feel so good.”
He huffs, thrusting up into you suddenly. He laughs a little when he feels the way it moves, hears the way you moan. “It's perfect. You're perfect,” he rambles. He buries his head in the pillows.
When his dull nails dig into your skin again, you take his hands and pin his wrists above his head. He gasps and moans as you fuck him, riding him with all the vigor you have.
“You like that?” you huff, your control slipping with every roll of your hips. “This feel better?”
“Yes!” He's a mess, laying there and letting you ride him. “Yes, so much better.”
You can feel some of his cum leaking out of you, joining your arousal and making the schelp! of your thrusts easy. It soaks your thighs and his waist, creating this loud smacking sound that fills the bedroom.
Holding both his wrists in one hand isn't easy but it's manageable as you bring your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles that immediately spur you on.
“Fuck,” you huff. “Spence, I'm gonna cum.” He answers you by thrusting his hips up some more, meeting your thighs as you come down.
Your legs shake as you cum, your cunt fluttering and gushing around him. One of your hands slips under his head to pull at his hair, enjoying the way he gasps. You attach your mouth to his throat, biting and sucking and licking.
It's like that for a while. It gets really wet and really loud. You ride Spencer for a while, holding him and kissing him and biting him while you both keep coming undone, moaning and gasping each other's names and grabbing at limbs to keep you steady.
Spencer is trembling beneath you. He's a complete mess, grabbing at your thighs and bucking his hips up to meet yours. His hair is all over his face, you keep having to brush it away. You praise him with every roll of your hips, grinding down on him and telling him how good he's doing. He whimpers every time you do.
The dynamics are always so different during heats like this. Spencer requires your lead, and you enjoy taking it. But when things are normal, when the need isn't so high, it's not so desperate.
That's not what this is. It's a raw feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and demands attention as you hold Spencer down by his throat and sink your teeth into his flesh as you shudder around him in the middle of another orgasm (which makes him lose it and cum inside of you again).
You look at him as you settle again, catching your breath as you move slowly on top of him. His eyes are glossy, he's beet red. He looks so precious. His hand reaches up to cup your breasts, grazing the pad of his thumb over your nipple.
“Better?” you breathe. “Does that feel better, honey?”
He nods, not fully present. “Yes.”
“Good. That's good.” You sigh, bending down to kiss him gently. “Can you do something for me, love?”
“Anything.”
You brace yourself, pulling yourself up from his lap as he slips out of you. He whines, bucking his hips up to meet you again. “Shh. It's okay.”
You're shaky as you sit down, reaching over to grab his cock. It looks better, but he's still hard. He's got a couple loads left in him. If you weren't in a rut, you don't know how you would be able to keep up.
“Go ahead and get on top of me, okay?” Your voice has lost some of its intensity, replaced with breathless gentleness. At this point, you're just trying to make sure Spencer is okay, and you're losing some of your energy to guide him on top.
You lean into the plush pillows, keeping your hips up as he sits up to follow. Spencer grabs your hips gently, guiding himself inside of you once again as he presses his chest into your back.
You groan into the pillow when he thrusts, reaching one hand to card through his hair and setting the other palm up for him to hold. Spencer buries his face into your neck, kissing you needily as one of his hands plays with your breast. “Do whatever you want, I'm okay,” you whisper, clenching around him. The rock of his hips becomes insistent. He thrusts into you in quick movements, though not as rough in fear of hurting you.
“It's okay, baby,” you breathe again. He whines, squeezing your hand a little tighter. He listens anyway, adjusting his pace as his hips snap into yours, reaching deep and groaning with every thrust. You moan, pressing your face into the pillow. “Good, just like that.”
Spencer lets go, rocking back and forth and moaning and grabbing. He holds you carefully as he fucks you recklessly, enjoying the shudder and the swell of his body when he cums.
His fingers find your clit, and he rubs at it as he continues to thrust. He rubs tight circles, coaxing the frayed nerves with every intention of making you feel as good as he does. He kisses the back of your neck, he grinds his hips deep inside of you.
You hear the way his breath starts to rise again, the way his hips stutter once more. You grip his hair a little tighter, clenching around him and huffing when your own edge starts nipping at you.
“Baby,” he whines. “M’so close. Almost there.”
“C’mon, honey.” Your voice is a whisper muffled by the pillows. “C’mon, c’mon. I got you, c’mon.”
He flicks his wrist, and you gasp. Everything is covered in a white haze as you clench and gush around him. Spencer moans weakly, burying himself deep inside, pushing forward against you just to get closer. With a final thrust, he spills inside of you with the most dreadful sound, filling you to the brim with the warmth of his cum.
Spencer wraps his arms around your midsection, keeping you close to him and sticking together with sweat and warmth.
He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. He's still buried inside of you, refusing to pull out just yet as he lays there, catching his breath. You lay there, resting against the bed and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. You don't know how many times he came, but you do know that if you weren't so dedicated to your medications, there is no earthly way you would come out of this without being bred.
It takes a while for Spencer to fully come back around. By the way his breath slows and his arms hold you, you'd say he'd fallen asleep for a moment. You don't blame him, you've dazed out a couple times as well.
When he comes to, he presses his lips to your skin. “Baby?” he mumbles, slipping out of you on the way to look at your face. Your eyes are closed, and you look tired. “Are you okay?”
You nod, smiling a little when you feel the way some of the stickiness is spilling out of you. “Mhm,” you hum lazily. You turn over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his chest. He's forced to move his arms to sit over your shoulders. He doesn't mind.
“I missed you today, Spence,” you whisper. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna die.”
He hums, smiling a bit. He kisses your forehead, petting you gently. It takes a long time for him to move, to bear to pull away from you just to stand and go to the bathroom. He comes back with a cloth that he uses so carefully to clean the both of you up with. You're absolutely stuffed.
You drape an arm over your eyes, sighing heavily. “Next time this happens, we stay inside.”
“Agreed.”
You stuck your pinky out, and he interlocks his with a smile. He goes back to the bathroom to rinse off the cloth.
You sit up, leaning into Spencer when he comes back to the bedroom, sitting next to you with an arm around your waist. He really must have missed you because he buries his face in the crook of your neck and stays there.
After a while, you hear his stomach growl. It's this deep, monstrous sound that pulls you away from him.
You look at him expectantly, standing up and taking his face in your hands. “When was the last time you ate?” Spencer blushes, glancing away from you. You sigh, though not unkindly. “You haven't eaten today.”
He swallows thickly. “I was focused on other things.”
You chuckle lightly, kissing his forehead. “C’mon. Let's get you fed.”
You go to pull him with you, but he squeezes your hand. You return to his grasp. “I can do it.” His arms wrap around you and hold you tight so you can't escape.
“Hush,” you tap his nose. “I'll cook, we'll eat.”
He considers this for a moment. “Can we have sex after?”
You laugh, guiding his face to your chest as you tuck your chin over his head. You stroke his back. “You're so needy,” you laugh giddily.
He hums. “Sorry.”
A sour feeling threatens to curl in your belly. You pull him away to look at his face. He looks a little sad. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, soft but firm. “Nothing.”
His brows furrow slightly. “But you said–”
“I wasn't upset with you. I was just playing it out for you.” You stroke your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could never be upset with your Spencer.
He pouts now. You can't help but giggle at the way he looks, lips pursed and brows furrowed. He's silly, you think. “That was mean.”
You shrug. “You like when I'm mean to you.”
“I know.”
You pull him in and kiss him again. He's insistent on pulling close, always insistent. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips.
His voice is so small, so gentle. You taste his love on his tongue. “I love you, too.”
He brings you back in, and you slot your lips along his neck. He tilts his chin up to give you space. You kiss and suck at his skin, knocking his chin up some more as you find a nice spot beneath his ear.
Spencer hums when you bite him, sinking teeth into flesh to lay claim to him once again. His hands tighten around your waist. You feel his tired length bob against your thigh. He's yours. He'll always be yours.
When you kiss it better, Spencer dips his lips to your neck to do the same.
“Now let's go eat,” you smile, running your hands through his hair affectionately. You make him stand, tucking yourself into his side. You both need the support. “I'll make you whatever you want.”
He sounds almost pleading when he asks you. “And then sex?”
You chuckle heftily. “Of course we're gonna sex again.” He smiles excitedly.
~
You both return to work the day after the next day. You had to call off when you woke up with Spencer's head between your legs. You'd both mentally prepared yourselves in the car beforehand for the stares you were going to get from the team.
You walk inside next to Spencer, standing so close to him that it's no wonder they all immediately smirked at you. Even worse, Morgan is sitting on your desk.
“Nice outfit,” Emily points out, gesturing to Spencer in his purple turtleneck. He had to hide his blush, and you know he wished he could hide it in your neck.
“Thanks,” he mumbles. She glances at you, raising her brows expectantly. When you gave her a very small, very brief thumbs up by your side, she made a little “yes” as she spun back around to her desk. She sticks her hand out to JJ, who grumbles as she opens her wallet.
“You're lookin’ good kid. Guess you're all healed up now?” Morgan quips. When Spencer comes to his desk, which sits right across from you, the man whistles. “You're smellin’ good.”
Yes. Spencer smells like you. He smells exceedingly like you. You'd spent a full day wrapped up in each other, and you'd bitten him more times than you can count. (Spencer could count. He'd say twelve times. It was eleven, but you bit him before you left the house. He's not at all upset by it.)
“I see the brains and the brawns have returned.” Rossi walks in with a newspaper under his arm, and Penelope at his side.
You roll your eyes, shooing Morgan away so you can sit down. Penelope shuffles up to you and bends down to whisper in your ear. “Did one of you cry?”
You purse your lips, considering for a moment before nodding with a stifled grin. “Yes! I was right,” she whispers.
“How was your fever?” Morgan nudges Spencer, whose mouth opens and shuts in a struggle to respond. He glances at you for help.
“Spence, how many files do you have on your desk?”
Without looking down, he answers. “Thirty-one.”
“Wow! And I have…” You look down.
“Forty-four.” Christ.
“Forty-four,” you repeat. “So I think we should get to work, huh?” Spencer nods enthusiastically.
Morgan chuckles, holding his hands up in defense as he backs away. “Okay, I get it. You get to work, little lovebirds.”
“Glad to have you back.” Penelope hugs Spencer. A look flashes across her face when she catches a whiff of his hair. She looks at you, covers her grin, and then rushes to join Derek.
Everyone decides to leave you alone. You've started turning on your computer when Spencer stands and reaches across your desk. He picks up eight of your files and sits back down with them added to his stack. When you go to reach for a couple to even it out, he lightly smacks your hand without even looking.
You roll your eyes, smiling at your screen as you tap in your password.