Against Protocol (Aaron Hotchner X Reader)

chapter three: mirror, mirror on the wall

Reid caught up to you as you trailed behind the team, late on gathering your things and heading out.

He pushed up his glasses as they ran down his nose and disclosed, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but the whole conversation with Hotch tonight about protocol, don't take it personally. The Bureau is just on his back after the whole Foyet situation. Strauss will use any opportunity to take him down."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me, but it's getting hard to believe this is just about protocol. I think he just hates me," you reply, looking at the cohesive shadow of the team ahead of you.

Reid tilted his head in contemplation. "Maybe Hotch is just trying to protect you."

Your eyes widened, caught off guard at the notion. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Strauss may have signed off on your transfer to the BAU, but she is giving Hotch hell about it. You're an asset to the team now. Young and bright. If anything happens, it's not just Hotch who has to deal with it. You do too, and I think Hotch cares too much about us, about you, to let that happen."

"Hm," you curtly answer, stumped.

At the hotel, the rest of the team filtered out of the elevator as they reached their floors, sparing tired good nights as they left. Reid at one point had started dozing off onto Rossi's shoulder in the car which Rossi responded with a roll of his eyes.

Only you and Hotch were left in the elevator for the fifth floor. The silence was suffocating, wrapping around your bodies in an unbearable reminder of the night before.

"I- I'm sorry, Hotch," you apologized, coming to terms with the impermanence of your one-night stand. "For the way I acted with the Charles family. You were right. It was against protocol."

He didn't look up, just continued with that incessant rub of his fingers as he stared into the metal elevator door in front of you two. Your lungs felt like they were being wrapped up in saran wrap as you waited for his response.

You continued as he remained silent. "Look, Hotch. I got what we did was wrong last night, but I think I've proved myself as a good agent. I know you don't want me he-", but before you could even finish, Hotch's lips crashed into yours.

"Be quiet." He pinned you against the elevator wall, as your lips returned the favor. His arms trapped you under him as your hand ran through his hair in aching anticipation. In the crook of your neck he whispered lightly, "You were being such a brat today, and I think you need to be taught a lesson."

You could smell the subtle whiffs of expensive cologne off him, and the faint scruff on his chin brushed up against your skin dangerously.

"I'm sorry, sir," you whimper out as his hand travels down to your neck, forcibly tilting your face up so he could see you better. He wanted to see you crumble under his dominance. The first button of your blouse comes undone as he runs his mouth across your cleavage. He planted kisses along your neck, somehow simultaneously rough and delicate — characteristically him.

His fingers dropped to your panties, running them across your covered wet slits. He observed your gaping mouth, as his rough fingers pressed harder against your panties. "You like this, don't you whore? You like the way I make you feel?"

Before you could answer, the elevator door slowly opened. Ding.

"Follow," he commanded, using his middle and pointer fingers to guide you.

You sauntered behind him to his room as he fumbled with his hotel room card. The door unlocked with a slight chck as his keys and wallets landed onto his bed. Instead of walking towards his bed, in steadfast determination he grabbed the leather chair that was at the desk and positioned it in front of the mirror. "Sit."