Warning: This is pure filth. Rough filth. If that's not your thing... maybe skip this chapter. Maybe... don't read this story.
Your eyes stick to every person that walks down the hall past you. You feel wildly out of place. You reach down fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. It's the only daytime appropriate skirt you own and it's extremely uncomfortable.
You're not sure why you agreed to wear the damn thing. It's not like not wearing a skirt would have any impact on your grade or Hotch's opinion of you. It's clear he doesn't like you... well, he definitely likes you. He just doesn't respect you. Well... he respects your work ethic and your intelligence. But physical attraction is different from genuinely enjoying your presence and liking your personality. He might want to fuck you but that doesn't mean he wants to spend time with you. You settle on: He tolerates you enough to agree to tutor you.
You look down at the notebook he gifted you a few days ago. You place a hand on the soft leather cover before opening it up. You've read it every single day since he gave it to you and you can tell the man is a genius. You have a million questions, a million things you want to discuss. Normally, you'd mark the pages up with highlights, little notes in the margins, and post-its sticking out of the sides. So you had to settle for your own notebook of questions, nearly as thick as the original work. At least your handwriting is more legible than Hotch's chicken scratch.
Even if Aaron Hotchner doesn't actually like you personally, you're growing more and more captivated with him every day.
The office door opens behind you and you turn, coming face to face with Hotch's chest, forgetting just how tall he is compared to you. You look up at him and he gives a small smile, placing his hand on your back, guiding you into his office. His large hand is warm on your back and your heart rate immediately picks up in his presence.
"Did you fill that whole notebook with notes?" His eyes dart down to your arms. He reaches forward to take the book from your clutches. You nod, struggling to calm your mind down enough to sort through the thoughts racing through it. He moves around you to lean against the edge of the desk, the book open in one hand, the other hand fingering through the pages.
You stand awkwardly in the center of the office, rubbing your fingers together at your sides, feeling oddly exposed now that you're not clutching the books tightly against your chest. "I'm sorry I just had so many questions and once I started writing them down, I couldn't just stop."
Hotch glances up from your notebook and you see a smile on his face. It's not that pretentious, shit-eating grin that spreads across his face when he embarrasses a student in class or outsmarts you. It's this beautiful, toothy grin. His eyes crinkle at the sides and as fast as his eyes are on you, they go back down to the notebook in his hands, "This is... amazing." He smiles wider, "Come on, sit down," He points towards the chair in front of his desk.
You hesitate slightly before moving to sit in front of him in the chair. You tug at the bottom of your skirt again, hoping for some more coverage.
"So you enjoyed the notes?" He doesn't look up from the book but reaches behind him for a pen and starts jotting things down alongside your handwriting.
"What I could read, yes," You tease him playfully, attempting to loosen up. He's intimidating and scary, but you desperately want to impress him.
"Something wrong with my handwriting, Miss Y/L/N?" He quirks up an eyebrow at you and this time, you're giving him the snarky grin he always gives you.
"Oh it's utterly atrocious," You lean forward resting your chin in the palm of your hand.
From the way Hotch laughs and looks over you, you could be entirely convinced he's genuinely enjoying your presence. "You wore a skirt," He nods a little, putting the book down at his side on the desk. He places both hands against the edge of the desk, gripping the lip of the wood.
"I'm not an idiot." You roll your eyes and shake your head. "I do know how to follow simple directions."
"I know you can," He grins before shaking his head, "I should've guessed," Hotch pushes his sleeves up his arms, exposing the tanned, veiny forearms that immediately draw your attention.
"Guessed what?" You furrow your brows at him. He smirks and gestures towards you and you stand up, putting your books down on the chair and moving close to him. With this orientation, your face is almost at eye level with his as he leans against his desk. He still looms over you. He places his hands on your hips and yanks you closer. You let out a soft gasp in response and his smirk grows.
You search his eyes, waiting for a response to your question. He runs his eyes over your entire body before lifting a hand to your cheek. He runs his hand over the skin before tangling his fingers in your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back, giving him full access to the base of your neck. He cranes his head down placing a few soft kisses on the skin. "I should've guessed you'd be a brat." He mumbles against your throat and the vibrations of his deep voice send tingles up into your face and jaw.
"Am I really a bra—" He nips your skin and you lose the ability to speak, letting out a small moan in response.
He smirks against your skin, "You seem to have a smart mouth," He groans, "How about we put it to good use?"
You nod. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," Your breathing rate picks up as Hotch continues to nip at your neck down to the tops of your breasts. His lips ghost over your cleavage peeking out of the top of your shirt.
"I can tell," Hotch's grip in your hair loosens but he tilts your head back down to lock his lips onto yours. Your head is already spinning with pleasure and he's barely touched you. With his open mouth on yours, all you can do is submit to him and give yourself over to his passion.
His hands move all over your body. His actions are motivated and urgent but he's not frantic. His touches are deliberate. He yanks you as close as possible so that you're standing fully between his legs. First, his hands are trailing up your bare thighs, his fingertips just barely ghosting up under your skirt.
"I thought about you," You breathe out, and your eyes flutter closed, taking in the feeling of your professor's hands on your body. You suck in a small breath as his hands continue to travel up your body before taking your warm pliable breasts into his hands. You throw your head back, "All last night... alone. Touching myself, wishing it was you, professor." You whine.
You need more. Every touch of his hands sends sparks across your body. You've never felt this attracted to someone, this alight with pleasure, this sensitive. At your words, he stands up from the desk placing his arms on your shoulders harshly, "I distinctly remember you mentioning something about getting on your knees for me." He pushes you down to the ground and you let out a small yelp as your knees hit the carpet and you swear you feel the seams in your skirt snap.
You sit up a little on your knees and reach forward for his belt, seeing the bulge in his pants growing. He places one hand over yours, stopping you. He reaches down with the other hand, tilting your face up to look at him. "This what you pictured? Getting on your knees? Begging for my cock?"
You bite your bottom lip and nod at him. He slaps your face gently before gripping your chin tight in his hands, pulling your attention back to him, "Words, my pretty girl. Use your words."
"I want to please you... sir." You pout up at him. He lets you unbuckle his belt and you push down his jeans and boxers. He leans against the desk again and you take his cock into your hand, pumping him slowly. A small groan escapes his mouth and you smile in response.
You place your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue slowly before taking as much of him into your mouth as possible. He bucks his hips slightly in response, forcing him deeper into your mouth. He brings a hand down, tangling his fingers in your roots.
You bob your head faster, running your tongue up his entire length, using your hand to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. He grips your hair tighter, tugging at the roots and forcing himself deeper into your mouth, thrusting harder, "Relax your throat pretty girl, you're going to take all of me." He groans even louder and you feel tears prick at your eyes, gagging as he continues to fuck your mouth.
Your lungs burn for air and you suck in through your nose but continue to pick up the pace, pulling almost entirely off of his cock before taking the whole length back into your mouth. Hotch's hand remains tangled in your hair as he lets out loud groans, muttering praise with each thrust.
You're thoroughly enjoying this and it's evident from the way you've got your thighs clenched together. His breathing is staggered, strangled grunts and moans escaping his throat. Plus the praise he gives you— Good girl. Just like that. Keep going. Don't stop, pretty girl—is turning you on more and more.
Just as he begins to buck his hips more erratically and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth, he pulls away, leaving a trail of saliva dripping down your chin. Your cheeks are running with tears, no doubt entirely smudging your mascara. You look up at him, upset that he stopped you just before you could make him cum. He's panting heavily attempting to catch his breath and glances down at you.
You smirk cheekily and he grips your face, "Look at what a mess I've made of that pretty face." He uses the pad of his thumb to attempt to wipe one of your cheeks. "Stand up." He orders sternly.
He pulls you to your feet, unable to keep his hands from running over your skin. He moves his hands up under your skirt again. This time, he hikes the hem all the way up to your hips. His hands clutch at your bare ass as he presses his lips against yours forcefully. You feel weak and soft under his touch. "You've done that a lot before," He groans against your mouth, his tone a little disapproving. You smirk against his lips.
"Did I make you feel good, professor?" You moan out. At that, Hotch flips you around, pushing you forward over the desk. You bend at the waist and catch yourself on your hands. Without warning, he presses his hard cock against your ass. You crane your head around to look at him, a small cocky smile growing on your lips. You're very quickly learning exactly what kind of man Professor Hotchner is. What he likes, what he doesn't like, and what you should do and say to get a rise out of him.
He pushes your face down against the wood of the desk, keeping your head pinned down. He bends down to your ear, "You think you can talk to me like that?"
"Sorry sir," You breathe out. He's being rough but it's because he knows you want it. He can sense that you're egging him on, trying to get a reaction. So he reacts just the way you want him to. He delivers a hard smack to your ass, sending jolts of pain and pleasure throughout your entire body.
He trails his fingers up your legs, teasing your wet, heated skin. He slips two fingers into you, eliciting a small gasp that dissolves into a moan. "Already tightening around me and I've barely done anything." He chuckles under his breath and he slowly thrusts his fingers, your moans becoming loud and uncontrollable. Just the simple insertion of his fingers already has your head feeling fuzzy and your heart races. You've been waiting so long for him to touch you again. The past few days have been torture.
You couldn't stop thinking about the way his tongue explored every inch of you. The way his hands feel on your body. The way his mouth feels on yours. He's rough with you, but never in a way that scares you, it excites you. He knows you can take it. You barely know the professor but it feels as if he knows your body intimately well and he hasn't even fucked you yet. That's what excites you.
The grip on your head has loosened so you're able to try to turn and look at him and his hooded eyes run over your body slowly. As his fingers move in and out of you agonizingly slowly you can't help but gasp at the pleasure and Hotch groans, feeling proud and lustful at the way your cheeks flush. He can feel your skin heating up with every thrust. He can see your eyes growing glassy and bright with lust. He sees your mouth fall open, soft gasps and whines escaping your mouth. He can't wait any longer and neither can you.
"Please," Your voice is a breathy whisper.
Hotch removes his fingers and guides himself against you. He barely presses his skin against you and you're already moaning louder than ever. Your legs feel like jelly as he presses into you. He groans with your reaction and thrusts deeper into you. Your body is already shaking with pleasure by the time he ruts into you fully.
That seems to spur Hotch on and he thrusts deep, not taking it slow, too impatient and needy to take his time with you. Strangled groans escape from him, meshing with your heavy panting. You collapse against the desk, unable to continue holding yourself up. Hotch reaches down, yanking you up by your hair to press your body closer against his. Your back arches against his chest and you decide to allow him to fully take charge. "Is this how you pictured it? In all those dirty fantasies of yours?"
You can barely muster a response but you know he wants to hear your words so you let out a strangled, 'Yes, sir' between your moans.
He's going at you with a sense of desperation. And god that makes you a million times more flustered. The idea that he wants you so bad, he needs you so bad. That he's so desperate to feel your skin. He's so desperate to fuck you. He's desperate. And you love it. You love that he wants you so bad.
The built-up anticipation of this exact moment with your professor means you don't last terribly long, and neither does he. His hands are gripping at your hips tightly, fingers digging into the skin. He thrusts into you wildly a few more times. He reaches down, rubbing your clit in slow circles as he throws his head back, moaning loudly, his movements growing erratic.
You feel the euphoria overwhelming you, the tension building in your body, your legs trembling. You fumble around the desk for something, anything, to grab onto. The stars coat your vision and your body shakes wildly with pleasure as his fingers rub your clit in faster circles.
It feels as if your orgasm lasts forever, your head feeling light and it buzzes with pleasure. You both just remain there for a long moment. Each of you is trying to catch your breath. He releases your head, being much more gentle, and you rest your face on the wood for a second, the cool surface a nice contrast to your sweaty skin. "Such a pretty mess I've made of you," He mumbles against your skin as he places a soft kiss on your spine.
Hotch steps a bit away from you and the warmth of his body close to yours disappearing, but the air in his office is hot and humid from your body heat. Another long, silent moment passes and you can't help but feel disappointed because you can tell he's about to kick you out. Just as you turn to face him, he's already pulled himself together. He's pulled his pants back up, adjusted his shirt, and is smoothing out his hair.
You hurry to pull the hem of your skirt back down and retrieve your cardigan from the floor. Hotch moves away from you, walking around to the other side of his desk. He reaches into his drawer and hands you a paper, "I want you to rework this memorandum for next week. Your writing skills need to be improved further." You're not surprised at how he switches from explicit to professional so quickly, but it is admittedly, quite jarring. You reach a shaky hand forward for the paper and take it, stacking it on top of your belongings.
His eyes linger on you and your eyes linger on him. You want to say something. You feel like you should, but just as you open your mouth, his office phone cuts you off.
He reaches down and picks it up, "Hotchner."
You grab your books, holding them close to your chest, standing awkwardly in front of Hotch's desk. He settles into his desk chair and finally glances back up at you. He pulls the phone away from his ear and nods towards the door, "You're free to go."
You'd be lying if that didn't sting a little, but you knew what you were getting into by sleeping with your professor. You hesitate for a split second as Hotch turns back to the phone conversation, searching around for a pen and pad to jot some notes down.
You walk to the door and open it, giving Hotch one last glance. You give him a warm smile before you walk out and you swear that you see the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly in response.
A/N
I'm so sorry it's been so long. I'm still really excited about this story and the later chapters I have planned but I always find it hard to get through the first few chapters of my stories. I always want to get to the good stuff, the real plot of the story. I hope y'all can forgive me for the long wait and also can tolerate another long wait before chapter 5. For some reason, I need lots of time in between writing smut-heavy chapters. oops. spoilers. :) I swear updates will be more frequent as we get further into the story.
I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter of just pure, utter filth. I know you all love smut so much so.
I love you all. A lot. <3