Triple Edged Sword

Punishment

Content Warning: brief mention of physical violence, female masturbation, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, potential dub-con interpretation

Word Count: 1.5K

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A good friend of hers and Spencers once said "life is a hell of a thing to happen to someone," but what happened to Spencer was not just life.

It was an almighty power exacting a revenge on the wrong human. Spencer had to pay the price for a crime he did not commit his whole life figuratively. That was, until it was literally.

She watched the man she loves look back at her as he was dragged out of the courtroom in handcuffs with no solution, eyes full of terror. She couldn't help the fact that her face wore the same expression, her mind full of the what ifs.

What if he never comes home? What if they kill him in there? What if prison breaks him? What if.. What if.. What if..

And unfortunately, one became the truth, because when Spencer did come home to her, he only returned as an empty shell. There was no more light left, his battery not just dying, but short-circuiting, making it so there was no way to recharge.

Spencer Reid, the most forgiving person on this planet could not find it deep within him to forgive himself. He couldn't let himself off the hook after he left her there, terrified and alone, and he most definitely couldn't forgive himself when right after the first time she visited him, he turned around one last time to see her finally cry because she thought he wasn't looking.

But what he really couldn't forgive was the day he returned home to her.

Spencer was sitting on the couch, staring ahead with eyes that were both hyper focused and not focused at all on what was surrounding him when she touched his shoulder. He was quick, too quick, to spin around and grab her wrist so tight that it made her knees weak.

Immediately he had let go, backing up so far into the room that he was close to cowering in the corner.

"It's okay," she said, holding her hands in front of her in the most nonthreatening way. Spencer had hurt her, and yet she still worried that shewas the threat. "It's just me. No one's gonna hurt you. You're okay now."

But was he? Because after that, he didn't allow himself to touch her. Sure, when they went out, he would hold her hand, pulling her close, and he kissed her goodbye when he left their apartment, but behind their bedroom door? It was his way of punishing himself; of not forgiving.

Spencer sat at the foot of their bed, looking down at her with eyes blank enough to scare her. They had done this dance plenty of times before, the moves carved behind her eyelids so she could never forget.

It happened on accident at first, Spencer walking in after returning home from a case to find her stark naked on the bed, the vibrator pressed against her clit as soft moans masked the sounds of his entrance.

From the doorframe, Spencer just watched even as every cell in his body screamed at him to step forward and replace the red bullet between her legs with his cock. But he didn't, and when she realized she was no longer alone, she almost stopped.

Spencer instructed her not to, and the hesitation she had melted away with the realization that even this little indulgence was new, a first step in thawing the cold wall Spencer built.

He watched her take her panties off, her body on full display for the man who did not let himself indulge. She reached over to grab her bullet vibrator, something that was added to the collection a while ago after they both realized that while he was away on cases, she deserved the pleasure it gave her.

"Spence, you know it's okay to touch me, right?" She asked, trying to pull the man she once knew back from the darkness that surrounded him. Spencer didn't look up to meet her gaze, keeping his eyes on her cunt that invited him in by glistening under the moonlight that seeped through the curtains.

"Keep going... Please."

Only once did he allow himself the slightest of movements when he heard the vibrations kick to life, his hand twitching involuntarily, aching to reach out and finally touch her. But even when the vibrator touched her clit, causing her back to arch and a moan to claw its way from her chest, he didn't touch her.

And while pleasure spread through her like a wildfire, her heart still hammered to a beat not meant for the bedroom. It still sat heavily in her chest, wishing for the one thing the man sitting at the foot of their bed refused to give her.

Her first orgasm was quickly approaching, Spencer could tell my the way her chest stopped moving every 3 or 4 seconds. He watched her explode, the muscles in her body spasming with the vibrations rocking through her, and yet, he still didn't reach out.

He sat frozen, his cock painfully hard by now, and still, he refused to touch her.

Slowly, her breath evened out, and she retracted the device from between her legs to shut it off.

"No," Spencer said sternly. "Again."

The vibrator kicked back to life, and with trembling fingers, she placed it back on her sensitive clit. During this entire time, she maintained enough composure to keep her eyes on Spencer, but when pleasure bordered on pain, her eyes shut.

Her second orgasm hit her before she had time to process that it was approaching, and she screamed out, broken curses and Spencer's name bouncing off the wall.

"Spencer," she whimpered out once the wave of her second climax settled. "Please."

"Again." His tone before was stern, leaving no room for argument or pleads, but this time it was broken. Spencer wanted to touch her, more than anything in this world, but how could he when the looming thought that he would hurt her further loomed over him like a ghost haunting his mind for eternity?

"I- I can't." Spencer tore his gaze from her to look at his hands, not in disappointment like she feared it was, but because tears welled in his eyes at her tone. She was exhausted, worn-out, but by far the worst thing Spencer could pick up from those two little words was how sad she sounded.

And like history repeating itself, she reached out to put a hand on his shoulder only for him to shoot up and grab her wrist. This time he didn't let go.

"It's okay," she reassured him, and his grip tightened.

"Y/N-"

"It's okay," she repeated once again, and her other hand came to softly cup his cheek. "Come here."

And when their eyes met, Spencer saw it all. He saw the day she invited him upstairs for the first time, he saw their first morning together consisting of stolen kisses over burning pancakes. He saw the way her eyes lit up when he surprised her with takeout and a movie on his day off.

Spencer saw the way she still loved him after all this time, throughout all the death, the destruction and the pain, she still loved him.

But she shouldn't, and he couldn't let it go on any longer.

So instead, Spencer released her wrist and stepped back until he was out of reach. He watched the hope drain from her eyes, and god how he wished he could put it back, but he shouldn't, so instead, he made it worse.

"I have to go."

"Spence-"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, stepping further away from her and reaching for the doorknob. "I really have to go."

Before he could hear her response, he swiftly left the bedroom, closing the door behind him even though he knew she wouldn't chase him. Not because she didn't care, but because in the end she always knew how to truly take care of him, and if space is what he needed, space was what he shall receive.

It didn't hurt any less knowing that, however, because when she was certain he was gone, she broke down. Naked and alone, she collapsed on the bedroom floor with sobs choking her.

With every step away from her Spencer took, more 'what if's' turned to 'what now.'