Spencer Reid One Shots

I've Got A Theory...

A/N: if you get the title reference, then we should totally be best mates.

...

Spencer groaned watching the images on the screen, his dick in his hand as he worked it up and down.

You had been away for three weeks and those three weeks had been hell. Before you'd gone he made a ridiculous pact with himself that he wouldn't touch himself until you were back. But it was too much, he'd become used to having regular sex and three weeks was killing him. Finally he'd given in and got his laptop out, sitting on the couch and indulging in some good old fashioned porn. Sure he'd only have to wait another day or so to see you but given how long it had been, he knew he'd go off like a rocket as soon as you touched him. And he didn't want that. So he decided to give his pipes a clean out. Desensitise the sausage.

The girls on the screen weren't as hot as you was but they were getting the job done.

...

You were exhausted but pleased you'd managed to catch that early flight. Now you could surprise Spencer. You'd checked in at the BAU, making sure he hadn't been pulled out on a case whilst you'd been away guest lecturing, so you knew he was at his apartment. Hauling your suitcase up the few flights of stairs you stopped just outside his door, searching your bags for the spare key he'd given you.

And that was when you heard it.

Moaning.

The distinct sound of a woman moaning. And then the groan that you recognised without a doubt as your boyfriend's sex groan.

Well then. That was it. He was cheating on you. Brilliant.

You leaned in to the door, fighting back anger and tears.

Wait a sec.

Nope.

The female moans were tinny, like they were coming through speakers.

Which meant one thing.

He was watching porn.

Spencer was watching porn.

Well, least he'd be ready and raring to go.

You found your key and slotted it into the lock.

...

Shit shit shit shit shit!

Spencer heard the tell tale sound of his front door unlocking. His mashed at the keyboard, quickly deleting the Internet history and pulling up You Tube, clicking it to the first video he saw and then shoving his dick back into his pants.

Only Morgan and you had a key to his apartment and he knew that if Morgan found him watching porn he'd never live it down, and if you found him watching porn surely your feelings would be hurt. Women didn't like their guys watching that sort of stuff, did they?

You swung open the door and dragged your suitcase in expecting to see a very specific site in front of you.

Except, nope. His pants were up and a cutesy video of some sort was up on the screen. Seeing you there, he tossed the laptop to one side shutting the lid so that it closed down automatically, and rushed over to you.

"Y/N! What are you doing back so early!"

You scrutinised him carefully. Face flushed, pupils slightly dilated, lips chapped from biting down on them. All the tell tale signs that he'd been doing something. You knew he masterbated, almost everyone indulged in a little do it yourself. You'd even caught him doing it before and it turned into a very hot and heavy session. So why was he being so weird about it?