It's been a week since you had spoken to Spencer in person. Sure, you had class with him, but between class and another case popping up, you hadn't been able to see him since last Wednesday. Texting just isn't the same as hearing his smart ass voice saying something extremely dorky and smart.
Spencer hasn't asked you about the freak out you'd had a week and a half ago—and you're grateful. At the time, you hadn't been ready to tell Spencer what it was all about. You don't like feeling vulnerable in front of someone—especially someone you may or may not have feelings for.
But it's Wednesday, and it's almost time for your class with Spencer. You decide you want to dress up for him, maybe make him feel a bit better in case the case he's working on is rough. Your thoughts flash back to Sunday when you'd seen how exhausted and beaten he looked. You bite your lip, rifling through your closet. Smirking, you settle on an outfit.
Spencer is your professor—and you want to look the part as his student. You slip on a blue plaid skirt, ending about mid thigh, and a light blue feminine button up to tuck into it. Slipping your feet into a pair of white Vans, you pull your hair into a half-up, half-down style. Your look is just innocent enough to not cause suspicion, but sexy enough for Spencer to know that it's for him. You finish off the look with a blue cardigan.
You grab your bag and briskly walk to the lecture hall, arriving at 7:58 AM exactly—knowing Spencer is already there. You want him to know what you were wearing, and you want it to be all he thinks about during class.
A little bratty? Maybe. Is it worth it? Definitely.
Pushing open the door, Spencer's head rises from the book he's reading, his eyes immediately grazing down your body. His tired eyes meet yours, lust and frustration flashing through them which makes you smile.
"Good morning, Dr. Reid," you say, slipping into your seat front and center in front of his desk.
He gives you a brisk nod. "Good morning."
You notice the slight strain in his voice and you smirk at him, getting out your notebook and Human Behavior book, settling in for a class of note taking. You write the date at the top of the paper before looking up at Spencer again, who is holding his syllabus.
"So, it looks like next class is our first test," he says, leaning against the front of his desk and crossing his legs at the ankles. "Today, I'm going to break down the exam so you will all have a better idea of how it's going to work, and then the rest of class can be spent studying." His eyes flash to yours and quickly rake down to look at your legs. You spread them slightly, your skirt raising up your thighs and probably giving him a good view of your white panties. After a split second, he exhales and walks around to the back of his desk, picking up a copy of the exam.
"The exam is split into three parts: short essay answer, multiple question, and matching. Overall, there are fifty questions. Each short answer is five points, matching is a total of twenty points, and multiple question is one point six points each." He looks around the room at each of the faces in the lecture hall. "I will include three bonus questions, usually short answer, so you all can try to get some extra points in."
You're writing down what he's saying, wanting to remember every detail of the exam. You are aiming for a 100—or higher if there are bonus questions. Looking up, you see Spencer's gaze on you again, his eyes filled with a hunger you've never seen before.
"It will be over chapters one through four, so expect to be reading and studying from the notes we've taken over those chapters." He lays the exam down on his desk before walking around to the front of his again. "Any questions?" No hands raise. "Good. Take this time now to study, whether it is alone or with a partner." His eyes land on you again. "Can I see you for a moment? I want to answer your question you had about learned behaviors while I'm here."
You nod, trying to look as innocent as possible as you rise from your seat. Spencer is already walking out of the classroom and you follow, trying to steady your rising pulse. He says nothing as you weave through a couple hallways until you got to a hallway of offices. Spencer grabs a key from his pocket and unlocks a door, pulling you through it
Spencer's office, if you can call it that, is small. A lone desk sits by the window, the bookshelves bare. Nothing is hanging on the walls, no nameplate on the desk, no rug on the hardwood floor. Turning around, you see Spencer lock the door before turning to you, tilting his head.
"Get on your knees." His voice is low.
There is something in his tone that makes you shiver, his eyes dark. "W-what?"
"I'm not going to repeat myself, baby." He slowly walks over to you. gripping your chin.
Your eyes stay locked on his as you lower yourself to the ground, legs spread slightly. "Did I do something, professor?"
Spencer gives a small chuckle, his hands running through your hair. "You show up to class looking like a little slut, distracting me in front of everyone." He grabs a handful of your hair and you gasp. "Now, you act all innocent."
Spencer's tone is dark, and you notice the circles under his eyes. His clothes haven't been ironed. It's obvious he hasn't slept. Whatever this case is, it's getting to him, stressing him out. He needs to lose control, just for a moment.
Whatever he wants, you think, he gets.
Your hand snakes up his leg and rest on the bulge between them, a soft groan coming from Spencer. You look up at him as you palm his erection, noticing the way it twitches in his dress pants.
"I wore it for you," you confess, both of your hands working to undo his belt. "Just for you."
Spencer's lips turn up into a small smile. "Is that right? Just for me?"
You nod and unbutton his pants, pushing them down to reveal his erection tenting his underwear. You keep your gaze on his crotch as you push his underwear down, his dick springing free. You've fantasized about what Spencer's dick might look like—and your guess had been right.
He's big and thick, and you look up at Spencer as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping slowly, your thumb brushing across his tip. Spencer groans, grip tightening in your hair as you push your face closer.
"It's time for you to show me how dangerous you really are." Spencer's eyes darken, pupils so dilated his eyes look black instead of hazel.
You look at him through your lashes and run your tongue up his shaft, swirling it around his head before taking it in your mouth slowly. Spencer's eyes flutter shut, head tilting back slightly, a long moan escaping him. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing his dick to the back of your throat and you gag but keep it there, tears already springing at the corners of your eyes.
"Good girl," he praises, holding your hair back.
His praise makes you moan softly, the sound vibrating up his dick. You work your mouth up and down his dick, the soft moans leaving Spencer's mouth sounding like heaven. You can tell he needs more, though.
Taking his dick out of your mouth, he groans at the loss. "Face fuck me."
Surprise flashes through Spencer's eyes. "Are you sure?"
You meet his eyes. "Please. Let me help you feel good."
Spencer nods, hesitating a moment before pushing his dick past your lips again. This time, he doesn't hold back, thrusting back into your throat. You gag, letting your jaw hang open as he begins to face fuck you. The darkness returns to his eyes, and a string of groans leave him as he repeatedly shoves his dick into the back of your throat.
"God, you're such a slut. Is this what you wanted, hm? My dick down your throat?" He grunts, his grip on your hair tight.
You can only moan in response, spit and tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You don't care. Spencer needs this, and you want to help him.
"Is that why you wore that little outfit today?" He asks, his pace picking up. "You knew you'd get this?"
You can feel yourself getting wetter, a damp spot probably visible on your panties right now. As Spencer's thrusts get more erratic, you know he's close. You look up into his eyes, your statement loud and clear even though you can't say it.
Cum for me.
Spencer holds your head in place, obscenities tumbling out of his mouth as he finishes down your throat, his dick pulsing in your mouth. He holds you there a moment longer before pulling himself out of your mouth. You gasp for air as he did, not moving from your position on your knees as you catch your breath.
You hear him walk around to his desk before walking back around to you, helping you stand up. His face is calm, nothing like the man who stood before you a minute earlier. He lifts the tissue he's holding to your face, wiping away the spit and tears. He crumples the soiled object, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes search yours, and you notice the hint of regret in them as he realizes what he had just done.
You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him into a kiss. You need him to know that it's okay; he doesn't need to be sorry. He wraps his arms around your waist, kissing you back deeply. After a moment, you feel wetness on your cheeks and pull away, your eyes searching Spencer's face.
He's crying. Silent tears fall down his cheeks. You aren't even sure he realizes he is crying. You use your thumbs to wipe his cheeks, touching your forehead to his.
"It's okay, Spence," you whisper, knowing his breakdown probably has nothing to do with what just occurred between the two of you. It had probably just triggered it. "You're okay."
You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug, letting his head nuzzle in the crook of your neck. He squeezes you tightly, body shaking slightly. You want to press him, ask him what's going on, but you don't. You just hold him, wanting the tears to stop falling.
After a few minutes, he pulls back, sniffing. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," you whisper, wiping underneath his eyes with your thumbs again. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He hesitates a moment. "This case...it's just really hard. It's getting to me. I'm so frustrated that I can't seem to concentrate. The longer we spend running around in circles, the angrier I get." He lowers his gaze. "Hotch almost pulled me from it, but I insisted I stay on it." He runs his hands up and down your back absent-mindedly. "And then I come here and...and use you for—"
"Hey," you interrupt, using your fingers to push his chin up so his gaze can meet yours. "You did not use me. I asked you to do that. I wanted to do that. You needed to lose control, Spence."
"I feel guilty." His voice breaks and hearing him that broken makes your heart sink. "I don't feel in control."
You cup his face again, making him look at you. "Please, Spencer, please don't feel guilty. You are one of the most amazing and thoughtful humans I've ever met." His teary eyes meet yours. "You're not a bad person. You're nowhere near bad. I've seen bad. You're not it."
He smiles softly at you before kissing you again, holding you like he never wants to let you go. In a matter of three weeks, Spencer Reid has become one of the best parts of your life—and that terrifies you. You pull away, smiling at him.
"Come on, we have to get back to class. People will start to suspect."
He smooths your hair out, trying to make it look like he'd not just had fistfuls of it tangled in his fingers. Giving you another lingering kiss, the two of you walk back to class, hands brushing together as you do.
Spencer dismisses everyone early and you linger after class, staying with him.
"Back to the BAU?" You question, biting your lip.
"Yes," Spencer replies, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "We're so close to a break in this case..." His thoughts wander and you can't help but feel a little sad he was leaving you.
"I wish I could come along," you think out loud, Spencer's eyes flicking to you.
"What?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.
"Did I say that out loud?" You laugh nervously.
Spencer thinks for a moment before tilting his head. "Do you want to come along?"
"Really?" You ask, taken aback by his offer. "I thought you'd be against it."
"You're going into this field anyway. Plus...this is a hard case. I can tell the team you're one of my psychology students going into profiling. We need all the help we can get." He's babbling, trying to calm himself down.
"Okay," you simply say, a smile lighting up your face.
"Okay?" He confirms, walking over to you and squeezing your hand.
"Let's catch a serial killer."