We drove home quietly, enjoying being home. When we arrived, Spencer got out of his seat and walked around to my side, opening my door and picking me up, carrying me to the door as I laughed. I struggled to open the door, then pushed it in.
"Ready?" He asked.
I nodded, wrapping my arms around his neck, "Let's go."
He took a dramatic step across the threshold and spun me around, "We're married!"
"We're married," I smiled and kissed him, "But we can't leave the suitcases in the car."
He pouted dramatically but put me down and we walked back out, pulling out our bags and leaving them in the door.
"Technically," I pushed Spencer against the wall, "We never consummated the marriage in our own bed."
"Well, that is certainly a failing on our part." He smiled.
"Let's go," I took his hand and we walked back to the bedroom. I pulled him on top of me onto the bed, kissing him. "My husband."
"My wife," he muttered against my lips.
This wasn't the sex that we normally had, kinky and fierce and one of us fully in power. This was softer, more passionate, both of us just taking care of each other's bodies and wanting to be close. Spencer pulled my shirt off and took off my bra, kissing down my chest. I leaned back into the bed, letting him take his time. No matter the situation, he loved pleasuring me and worshipping my body.
"Spence," I gasped, "Fuck, I love you."
He looked up at me, smiling, "I love you too."
He sucked marks onto my breasts and hips, slowly teasing my waistband down. He pulled off my pants, then began kissing up my ankles, leaving light marks on my thighs, making me gasp. He breathed against my panties, making me groan. He moved up and smiled, kissing me. His lips were a little puffy from all the marks.
"My turn," I smiled, turning so I was on top of him.
I undid his shirt and pulled it over his head, straddling his leg and grinding down a little, just to tease him. I marked his neck dark, above where his collar covered, and worked to push his pants and boxers down, smiling deviously. I moved so I was knelt in between his legs, looked up to make sure he was watching me, and began licking a slow stripe up his dick, feeling him twitch under me. When I reached the head, I opened my mouth, sucking it lightly.
Spencer's hand ran through my hair, "Fuck, I love your mouth."
I hummed and slowly started sucking him more, making it as graphic as possible. When he was all the way in, pushing against the back of my throat, I shifted my position to be more comfortable and began bobbing my head, focusing on my breathing.
Spencer's breath was catching in his throat as I loved, "(Y/N)," he panted, "I want to be inside you."
I looked up at him, sucking and slowly moved away, making a loud popping noise as I did. I pulled off my underwear slowly, smiling at him.
"Stop being a tease," he whined, "I want you." He grabbed my hips and turned us around again, so I was partially pinned under him. He took his cock in his hand, rubbing it against me before slowly starting to push in.
"Fuck, Spencer," I moaned.
He pushed in all the way, waiting for a second as we both adjusted to the feeling. He leaned down, kissing me as he began moving. I ran my hands through his hair, pulling him into a kiss as he thrust into me.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, "I love feeling you- fuck, so amazing."
"You make me feel so good," I answered, pulling him into another kiss.
I marked his neck on the other side, biting down when he adjusted his angle slightly and was hitting my sweet spot with every thrust.
"Not gonna last long," he muttered, "I'm close."
"Whenever you want," I answered.
Less than a minute later, he grabbed my hips and pulled me up against his cock, groaning against my mouth as he came. I moaned at the feeling, his muscles shaking as he tried to catch his breath. Before I could say anything else, he moved down and started kissing my hips and trailing his fingers over my clit.
"You don't have to," I muttered.
"Yes, I do," he cut me off, "And I want to."
I decided not to argue, instead just enjoying the feeling of his lips and tongue. He knew exactly how to make me feel good, I didn't even have to say anything. I lost myself in the feeling of his tongue and fingers, pushing inside me.
"Spence," I groaned, "You're about to make me..."
"Anytime," he answered, working faster.
I moaned wordlessly and came, bucking my hips against his mouth and cumming, hands digging into the sheets. Of course, Spencer didn't stop, bringing me to another three orgasms in quick succession, refusing to stop until I couldn't even finish a word, instead just gasping and spitting fragments between breaths. He pulled away, moving to lay next to me, grinning as he licked his fingers off.
"Fuck, you're hot," I managed to gasp out as I tried to catch my breath.
He looked satisfied with himself, finishing cleaning his fingers before leaning down to kiss me. I could taste the combination of his semen and my arousal on his tongue and lips.
"Bedtime?" I asked, curling into his chest, "Fucking jetlag."
He laughed, the sound deep against my ear. "Sure, I'll get you a shirt." He stood up and found a shirt for me, pulling on a sweatshirt and returning to embrace me. "Work tomorrow," he groaned, "Sleep now."
"Sleep is good," I muttered, hands curling in his shirt.
My dreams were full of views from Spain and Spencer's kisses.
***
When Spencer and I showed up at work the next day, I was immediately pulled into Hotch's office.
"How was your honeymoon?" He asked, closing the door.
"Rossi had an unholy amount of money," I answered, "And we enjoyed the benefits."
He laughed, "Might as well, right?"
I shrugged. "So, what's going on?" I knew small talk avoiding the point when I heard it.
"I realized we never got to talk about the collaring ceremony before you left, and I don't know what Spencer told you," He looked at me, "I just want to make sure we're okay."
I was careful with my words, "Spencer told me you were his caregiver when he was going through stuff and was using age regression, right?" He nodded, and I shrugged, "Then that's all that matters. You took care of him and he chose you as the person to be with him for the ceremony and I respect that."
"That's... not quite everything." Hotch looked more uncomfortable than I'd ever seen him.
I raised an eyebrow, "Care to elaborate?"
"Shit, I thought he would've told you. I-" he hesitated, "I made a sexual advance on Spencer, when he wasn't regressed obviously, and, well, that's why I stopped acting as his caregiver. I believe what he was to me was essentially, 'Now that I know you feel that way about me, I can't be with you platonically'. So, it became strictly professional once again."
I felt like my jaw was on the floor. "You mean... he didn't outright reject you? Because that could go either way."
"That's how I felt, I didn't know how to react and I just, well, I let him leave." Hotch sighed, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I just thought you deserved to know."
"Thank you for telling me." Was all I could think of to say.
He nodded, "We have a briefing to get to."
I opened his door and we both walked to the briefing room, finding everyone else already there, waiting. Hotch nodded to Garcia as I took a seat, and she started.
"Everyone, meet the Flintstones. And before you ask, yes, that is their actual last name," Garcia clicked on the projector, pulling up a picture of a happy family. "They were murdered last night on their night out at dinner. Preliminary reports are suggesting poison was used, but we don't know what kind yet."
The next picture was one of the family around a table, slumped back in their chairs, pale.
"Parents are Donna and Chuck, both 56, kids are, in order of age, Ally – 20, 16-year-old twins Jennifer and Aron, Andrew – 10, and one-year old baby Olive."
"Why are we being called in?" Morgan asked, "This unsub isn't even technically a serial killer, it could be a grudge against this one family."
"Good question, my friend. That brings us to their home." Garcia pulled up the next image.
One of the walls of their house, covered in red writing: They are the first.
"That's blood isn't it," I groaned.
"Unfortunately," Garcia confirmed, "It's actually Chuck Flintstone's blood, he donated it about a week before the murder, they ran a rush DNA test on it."
"We're figuring out who he donated through and who might have had access to the blood," Hotch explained, "But we have no idea what the unsub's timeline is, so we need to be there ASAP. Wheels up in 30."
We all stood up and began to leave. I motioned for Spencer to hold back, shutting the door behind Garcia.
"So Hotch wanted to make sure I knew about you two," I said, leaning against the doorframe, "I told him what you told me. He had some extra details."
"What did he say?" Spencer's voice was too casual.
"Don't bullshit me," I snapped, "He tried to make a move and that's why you called it off. You told him you couldn't be with him platonically knowing that, and you stopped."
He nodded, not saying anything.
"I don't care if you boned our boss, Spence, really," I sighed, "I just want to know so shit like this doesn't happen."
He fidgeted with his bag, "I didn't know how you'd react."
"Spence," I said, almost laughing, "I'm the one who set up the scenario in which Morgan had his cock in your ass, you really think I would react that badly?"
"I..." he flushed with embarrassment at the memory, "I don't know what I thought."
"So, what did you mean when you told him that?"
He looked up at me, "What?"
"When you told him that you couldn't be with him platonically knowing that. Did you mean you aren't interested in him like that, or you would never stop thinking about him like that?"
He dropped his eyes again. I recognized the difference, though: this was how he looked when he was submissive.
"Spencer," I said, a little bit more like a command, "Answer me."
"I'd never be able to stop thinking about him like that... romantically or sexually... if I continued," he muttered, "I knew it would always be a thought in my mind, a what if."
"Why didn't you just do it with him?"
"I was terrified, I didn't know about what I liked and he's experienced and my boss and I wanted it all to be right and I didn't know how to make it that way," he let out, "I wanted it, I wanted him, I was just terrified."
That wasn't what I expected.
"Spencer," I said, voice softer, "If you ever want to do something with Hotch, I certainly wouldn't complain."
"Really?" He looked up at me, "Are you sure?"
"I just want to know which one of us would have the other on their knees, I can see him going either way," I grinned mischievously, "Yes, I'm sure."
He pulled me into a hug, "Thank you."
"Anything for you, Spencer," I whispered, "Anything."
***
Hotch was angry at himself. Really angry.
He'd profiled the killer, he'd made guesses about where and how to find him, and he was wrong. Two more families, both with infants, were killed before we found the real killer.
When we finally caught the unsub, I slammed him into a desk and cuffed him, dragging him off. We'd found all the poison and trophies we needed to put him away for life. I handed him off to a cop and turned around, seeing Hotch pace angry towards the car.
I rushed after him, "Hotch!" He didn't stop, "Aaron! Take a breath."
He turned to face me, "I should have figured it out. He was on one of Garcia's lists and I struck him out, I didn't think it was him."
"None of us did either," I answered. "We work as a team you can't blame this on yourself."
"There are parents and children dead because I didn't do my job properly," He spat, "All due respect, I absolutely can."
"Look at me," I ordered.
He did, looking me in the eyes, chest heaving.
"We work as a team and we make mistakes as a team," I reminded him, "Now you can either continue blaming yourself or take the attitude of 'at least it was only three families', and remember there are other killers to catch."
He nodded, leaning back against the car, wiping his forehead, "How do you do that?"
"What?"
"Just rationalize it all like that, push past all the shit we so and see, the mistakes we make," he said, "It doesn't get to you."
"Spencer and I have, well, post-case rituals." I didn't really want to go into details, "We help each other cope and calm down, separate the job from everything else." I held up my hand, showing him the bracelet that matched Spencer's collar, "This helps too. It's grounding, reminds me I'm fighting for someone."
"Maybe I should get Jack to make something for me," he laughed.
"I dunno, a macaroni necklace as you're interrogating criminals might not be the best idea," I teased.
He made a mock offended face, "Macaroni art? How dare you, we have moved past that and are firmly in the stage of melty beads and clay. Which, by the way, are not a good combination."
I snorted at the thought, "Does that smell as gross as I think it does?"
"You have no idea," Hotch sighed, leaning his head back, "But it makes Jack happy."
"You can't sacrifice your happiness, Hotch. If... if you ever want to do something with me and Spencer, let off some steam or get help coping, whether it's wine and ice cream or something else, just tell us." I looked him in the eyes, "You're our friend as well as our team leader."
He nodded, "I might take you up on that at some point. For now, though, I just want to get home."
"I am with you there!" I said, walking to the car door, "I like my own bed."
We drove back to the precinct, finished everything up, and drove to the airport. Morgan, JJ, Hotch, and Emily were all crashed by the time we were at cruising altitude. Rossi was absorbed in a book, leaving Reid and I to talk.
"So," I said quietly, "I talked to Hotch."
He looked at me, "And?"
"I just told him that if he ever needs us, for anything, we'll be there." I shrugged, "I don't want to push him."
Spencer nodded, "I'm just glad he's not still angry at me for that."
"It's impossible to stay angry at you," I smiled, poking his nose, "Not with that cute face."
Spencer rolled his eyes, opting to kiss me rather than respond.
"I love you," I whispered.
"I love you too."
"And I love quiet on a late-night plane ride," Rossi said, "So keep it down, lovebirds."
"You're just mad we've already lasted longer than at least one of your marriages." I answered.
"Punk," he muttered.
"Mine," Spencer breathed next to my ear.
"Yours," I leaned back, looking up at him, "And you're mine."
He nodded, "Yours."