"The victims what?"
Your voice rings out around the roundtable room, mouth agape as you stare at the pictures of the victims in front of you. The team had been called in to assess a new case—and a brutal one at that. JJ shifts uncomfortably as she stands in front of the team.
"Each of the victims was found with," JJ clears her throat, "their fingers and toes cut off. The bodies are disposed of in water, but cause of death isn't drowning."
"Jesus," you mutter, glancing around the room.
"Any evidence of sexual assault?" Morgan asks.
JJ nods. "Yes. Cause of death is stabbing."
"Sexual sadist." Hotch says, glancing around the room at the team. "His victims are all women. Same physical appearance."
"He has a type," Prentiss notices. "Red hair, brown eyes. Anywhere between five foot three and five foot five."
You see Spencer staring down at the file, his eyebrows knit together. You can see him analyzing the crime scene photos, his brain already working ten thousand miles a minute. He raises his eyes and meets yours, a small blush appearing on his cheeks as he looks away.
You smile to yourself before averting your gaze. It's been two weeks since Spencer stumbled upon that little scene between you and Michael. Ever since, Spencer hasn't been avoiding you, but every time you even glance in his general direction, he gets flustered. A very large part of you likes that you seem to have that effect on him. Every so often, your mind would wander to the bulge you saw in Spencer's pants when you confronted him—a very nice looking bulge, might you add.
You've never really thought of Spencer in that way, but ever since the incident, you find yourself thinking more and more of what it would feel like to wrap your fingers around Spencer's neck and kissing his pretty little lips. To have him completely at your mercy. That thought alone makes a knot form in your lower stomach and you shift in your seat.
Hotch's deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
"Wheels up in thirty."
You close the case file before standing up, watching the rest of the team file out the door. Most of the team leaves the bullpen to get their go bags, leaving Spencer alone at his desk, his go bag already sitting on it. You watch him unzip it and place three books gently inside, his fingers fiddling with the zipper as he closes it. He sits in his chair, leaning back as his eyes scan over the case file once again. You grab the file and walk to your desk, leaning against the side.
"What books are you bringing this time?"
Spencer looks up at you, his neck turning pink. "U-uh, One Thousand and One Nights, War and Peace, and Great Expectations."
"Ah," you say, crossing your arms in front of you. "Nothing like good ol' Charles Dickens." Your eyes rake down his body, resting on his crotch for a moment before flicking back up to his face.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" He mumbles, averting his gaze and tapping his fingers against the wood of his desk.
"Like what?" You tease, sticking your tongue between your teeth slightly.
Spencer looks up at you, shifting in his seat slightly. "L-Like...I don't know."
You grin, tilting your head. "We've barely talked the past couple of weeks, y'know."
"I know." Spencer takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
"Why?"
"I, um, I-I don't know."
"It's because of what you saw, right?" You ask, standing straight up to move to Spencer's desk, leaning against it.
"No, it's not because of t-that," he stutters. His red cheeks and the way he avoids your gaze proves that statement to be false.
"Spencer, it's just me," you tell him.
In a daring act, you reach out your left hand, hooking it under his chin. He inhales sharply as you turn his face toward you, his eyes looking up to meet yours. You hold his gaze, noticing the way he runs his tongue between his lips nervously. His hands rest in his lap, one of them curling into a fist, clenching and unclenching slowly.
"I think..." you wonder aloud as you release his chin, fingers running down the side of his neck, "that you actually enjoyed what you saw that day. You just don't know how to admit it."
You feel Spencer's pulse pick up as your fingers rest on his neck, his chest rising and falling as his breathing increases. You tilt your head, smiling at him with your tongue pushed slightly between your teeth, fingers trailing lightly over Spencer's neck.
"Hm," you muse. "Is this turning you on, Spencer?"
The slight tilt of Spencer's head to the back is your answer, the action instinctual. You hold his gaze, his skin hot beneath your fingertips. His mouth opens slightly, and you watch the way his hands move to grip his thighs. You move your fingers away from him, a small whine leaving Spencer's throat as you break contact. You smile widens, taking a step away from him.
"Like I said before," you turn your back to him as you walk back to your desk, "all you have to do is ask."
You grab your go bag, glancing down at Spencer's hands resting over his crotch as you walk by his desk, stifling a laugh. You meet the team at the jet, taking a seat in the back of the jet. You sit back against the seat, preparing yourself for the few hours you're going to be on the plane. You buckle your seatbelt, glancing at Spencer. He's sitting adjacent to you, already opening one of the books he brought with him.
The jet takes off and you unbuckle your seatbelt once it's safely in the air. You yawn, pulling out your phone to scroll through your music. You choose your favorite playlist and slip your headphones in, resting your head against the window. Your eyes close, drowning out the sound of the jet with your music. After a while, you jolt when someone taps your shoulder.
You turn to see Spencer standing next to your seat and you pull out the headphones. "Yes?"
'We're just gonna do the briefing," Spencer says quietly, a little smile on his face.
You nod, coiling your headphones up and walking to the team. You sit on the bench next to the table, Spencer sitting to your right. Hotch leads the team in the small briefing, reviewing the case.
"Prentiss, Morgan, you're going to visit the crime scenes. Reid, Y/l/n, you're going to go stay at the station and start up a geographical profile. JJ and I will go talk to the families and see if the victims have anything in common other than physical appearance."
You nod, glancing over at Spencer beside you. He has his fingers entwined in front of him, a small blush on his cheeks. You smirk before getting up, the side of your thigh grazing his hands as you walk by him to your seat. You feel him tense and your smirk grows wider as you sit, fiddling with your phone. After a minute, it vibrates.
Spencer: You make me nervous when you look at me like that.
Your eyes flick up to see Spencer's nose in his book, his phone resting on the table in front of him.
You: Like what?
Spencer doesn't respond and you set your phone down, buckling your seat as the jet preps for landing. After landing, the team files out of the jet, piling into three cars to go to the three separate destinations Hotch designated. You climb into the driver's seat, Spencer sitting in the passenger side. You begin the drive to the station, your hands gripping the steering wheel.
Spencer sits with his hands in his lap, twiddling his fingers together. Your fingers enclose around the steering wheel tighter, watching Spencer's head turn in your peripheral to look at your hands. You grin, shaking your head slightly.
"Why the sudden fascination with my fingers, Spencer?"
His gaze quickly turns to the front, watching the road in front of him as you drive. "I-I don't know what you mean."
You chuckle. "Of course you don't."
It's a short ride to the station and you park the car out front, you and Spencer heading inside quickly to set up a table in a small room so the two of you can work on the geographical profile. You unfold a map of the town and surrounding towns, marking on the map where the victims were found. There are three victims, each of them found within ten miles of each other. Spencer and you work quickly—narrowing down the possible geographical location of the unsub to one of two towns.
Spencer sits in a chair in front of the map, tapping on the table quickly. His tongue is in the corner of his mouth again, concentration painting his face as he stares at the map. You tilt your head as you look at him, watching his eyes flick back and forth over the piece of paper. You slowly walk behind his chair, resting your hands on the back of it. He barely notices, his fingers tracing the lines between the two towns.
You place your hands on his biceps, feeling him stiffen beneath you. He inhales sharply, breath almost hitching in his throat. You move your hands up his arms to his shoulders, one of your hands moving to brush the back of his neck.
"Y/n," He murmurs, and you feel the heat creep up his neck.
"I can literally see the wheels in your brain turning when you look at the map."
Your run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling him shudder underneath your touch.
"S-Someone could see us," Spencer says.
"Spencer," you tell him. "We're alone in a room together; no one is gonna see."
He gives a small breathy laugh. "Someone could come in though."
"Do you want me to stop? I'll stop it you want me to."
He shakes his head, leaning into your touch. "N-No."
You tug softly at the hair on the nape of his neck, emitting a small whine from Spencer. You remove your hand and he leans his head back, eyes finding yours. You brush the hair out of his line of sight, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.
"I like it when you make that sound," you muse, tilting your head as you look down at him, your eyes traveling to his crotch. A bulge presses against his pants and you smirk. "You're a little excited there."
You notice Spencer gets hard every time you touch him—most guys react that way if they're virgins. Spencer is young and awkward; you doubt he's ever been with anyone—not that it's a negative thing. You think it's cute.
"I-I'm sorry," he apologizes, face turning beet red.
"Don't apologize."
You release his hair from your soft grip, turning his chair around so he faces you. You rest your hands on the arm rests, hovering over him. Spencer's hands fold in his lap, covering the bulge there. You lean down so you're eye level with him, inches from his face. His eyes trail from yours to your lips and back up again, his breathing increasing.
"You're nervous." You prop yourself up above him.
He nods, averting his gaze. "I-it just makes me nervous when..." He trails off.
"When what?" You ask him, using one hand to grip under his chin, keeping his face tilted up toward you.
His eyes stay level at your lips, swallowing. "When I think of you like that."
"Why?" You ask him, a genuine question.
Spencer grips his thighs. "I, uh, I've just n-never done anything with anyone and I'm sure you've done stuff with—"
"Spencer," you interrupt him, his eyes flashing up to yours. "I'm not judging you."
He keeps his eyes locked on yours and you glance down at his lips, imagining what they would feel like on yours before breaking the contact. You stand back up, swiveling his chair around to face the table again. You walk to the other side, feeling Spencer's gaze on you.
"What—"
"Have you guys narrowed down the geographical profile yet?"
Hotch and JJ storm into the small room, Spencer jumping slightly.
"We've narrowed it down to two towns," you tell him, biting the inside of your cheek.
Hotch nods. "Good work. Morgan and Prentiss should be back soon, but for now, you two go to the hotel. It's been a long day—tomorrow's going to be even longer."
You nod. "Thank you, sir."
You wave by to JJ and Spencer follows you out of the station. The two of you ride to the hotel in silence, except for the faint sound coming from the radio. The hotel is plain—as always. Everyone got their own room, thank god. You and Spencer grab your key cards and head up to your rooms. You're room 42; Spencer, ironically, room 44.
"Looks like we're neighbors," you say to him, your go bag heavy on your shoulder.
Spencer smiles, nodding slightly. "Looks like it."
Something is bothering him—you can tell.
"What's wrong?" You ask him, crossing your arms.
"Why won't you make a move?" He blurts out, hands immediately going to cover his mouth as he blushes red.
You're almost taken aback by his question, the speechlessness lasting for only a moment. You stick your keycard in your door before looking at him. "You haven't asked me to."
With that, you open your door and step inside, letting it shut behind you.
•••
Spencer sits at the small table in his room, downing the last of the mini vodka he'd opened fifteen minutes before. He didn't really drink, but he needed something to suppress the urge to masturbate to Y/n for the fifth time in two days.
Two days.
That's how long they've been on the case. At first, it looked like a simple case, but it seemed to be growing more intricate every day. Two days since Y/n had teased him and told him he needed to ask her to make a move. Spencer can't possibly do that—how the fuck is he supposed to ask someone he's interested in to kiss him? He shudders at the thought, a wave of embarrassment washing over him the more he thinks about it.
He sighs, remembering the way her fingers felt as she pulled the hair on the nape of his neck, the pressure of her fingers on his arms and neck. God, she was so close—he could've kissed her then and there in that room. He didn't; he chickened out like he always did with pretty girls. She makes him feel things he's never felt before and he feels the familiar stirring in his stomach, the ache returning between his legs.
"Fuck," he groans, standing up.
He strips, folding his clothes before going into the bathroom, setting the water at a suitable lust dousing temperature before climbing inside. His body jolts a little as the cold water rushes over his skin. He washes his hair and his body, trying to keep his mind off of her. He glances down at the raging boner he has, the cold water not doing anything to help him. Shaking his head, he turns the water off, stepping out of the shower and putting on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, his boner tenting his sweatpants considerably.
He rubs his temples, closing his eyes as he sits on the edge of his bed. Her words replay in his mind on a loop, a broken record he can't take the needle off of.
"You haven't asked me to."
Fuck.
Spencer hesitates a moment before slipping his keycard in his pocket and walking to his door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. He sticks his head out to check that the hallway is clear before walking out, letting the door shut softly behind him. He walks the few steps to Y/n's door, standing in front of it. His hands sweat and he clenches and unclenches them into fists, trying to make up his mind about what he wants to do.
Surprising himself, he knocks lightly, resting his arms at his sides as he waits. A moment passes and the door doesn't open. He bites the inside of his cheek, debating one whether or not to knock again when it opens.
Y/n stands in front of him, hair pulled into a ponytail. His eyes rake down her body, noticing she's wearing a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts. He moves his glance back up to her face, noticing her head cocked.
"Spencer?"
He's silent a moment, his words catching in his throat. His anxiety spikes, his fists clenched as Y/n stares at him.
"Spencer, what—"
"I need you to make a move."
——————————————
Author's Note
Oooh, Spencer is horny and wants Reader to help him out. I wonder what could possibly happen?
I'm glad y'all are enjoying this so far. I can't wait to get into the smuttier parts so we can finally see sub!Spencer! Also, I know this is season 1 era Reid, but I'm using the team from season 3 because I love them.
Anyway, hope y'all liked this chapter! I'll be updating Losing Control soon!