Summary: Jealous Spencer reveals himself.
Content Warning: Adults w/ age difference (10yrs), drug use (marijuana and alcohol), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, choking, daddy kink
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It was the tensest walk I'd ever made in my life. As soon as that damn door clicked behind me, I spun around to unleash my fury on Spencer. However, he seemed to have a similar idea.
"Well, here you go. You've got my fucking attention, (y/n)." His words were laced with a bitterness I certainly didn't deserve. I returned it with a dark chuckle, the anger swelling in my chest.
"I didn't need your fucking attention, Spencer."
He laughed, pushing his sleeves up his arm. It took me this long to realize he had clearly come straight from work. At least that explained the fucking gun.
"Then do you want to explain what all of that was about? Flaunting the fact that you're putting yourself in danger, having a complete stranger grope you in front of me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right!" I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air as I walked away, "I forgot it's only okay when it's you groping me at a club!"
Okay, that was different. I could hear him preparing to point out the technicalities of my statement and wanted to put an end to it before he even started.
I turned around, not really sure where I was going in his apartment, anyway. Of all the time I'd spent here, almost none of it was out in this living area.
He had been following me, and when I spun around I was surprised to see we were already basically touching.
"You're not my boyfriend, Spencer! You're not even my friend! You said you were done with me." The words tasted bitter in my mouth, and I made myself promise not to cry.
Still, my voice shook as I nearly screamed, "I can fuck whoever I want!"
One hand pressed against my shoulder, he backed me up until I could feel the edge of his desk stop my retreat. His tongue swept over his lips in a delightfully angry manner.
"Not if I have anything to say about it." His voice was also shaking, but I suspect for another reason entirely. His volume was much lower, despite the energy radiating from him.
I tightened my lips, looking down at his hand on me before jerking away from his touch.
"Yeah, w-well... You don't!"
He never even let his hand fall. As soon as I moved, he raised it to my hair; his usual comfortable resting place whenever we were this close.
My face was flushed from the anger, alcohol, and now something else. Yet still, I was scowling, my teeth bared and entire body bristling with hostility.
"You sure about that?"
The words hung in the air. His body was now close enough to mine that I could feel the way our hearts banged against our ribs as if they could throw punches at the other.
I was so fucking mad. So tell me why in that tense silence, the slightest motion immediately shattered any space between us.
Within the blink of an eye, our mouths crashed against each other with bruising force. I didn't touch him as his arms enveloped me, pulling my entire body up to meet his.
My feet were barely touching the ground under the force of his hold on me. Where his hands were anchored tightly on my waist and hair, mine flailed behind me, knocking the contents off his desk.
As the papers and books clattered to the ground, Spencer immediately hoisted me on top of it, freeing his hand to take my face in his hands.
The way our mouths slid against each other was painfully breathtaking. It wasn't long before I was practically moaning into his mouth, my hands reaching for whatever item of his clothing they could grab.
"God, I fucking hate you," I muttered as we broke apart, my hands stumbling in the dim light to undo the buttons on his shirt.
"Really seems like it," he returned before coming back for another ravenous kiss. I could not unbutton his shirt fast enough for either of our likings, so he removed his hands just long enough to begin at the bottom.
We met in the middle, like we did in so many ways.
Ripping his shirt off, he shot a rather serious taunt, "Why should I fuck you? You've been a complete brat all afternoon."
I leaned back against the desk, my hands sliding on the paper that I also pushed off, not caring about the mess left behind.
"Cause I'm so sorry. I'll never do it again." The sarcasm dripping from my words like the sweat forming on our brows.
This time when his hand was on my face, he pulled the skin taut. His eyes dug into mine like knives. He meant it when he replied, "God, I'd love to make that mouth do something useful."
I sat up, leaning forward towards him and into his hand, baring my teeth as I dared, "Do it."
I'd never seen his breath so labored, his pupils so dilated like they would actually consume his entire irises. The disheveled, unhinged man in front of me was the one I wanted right now. The one I needed right now.
"I don't trust myself to fuck you right now." The words were strained and begrudging. I had underestimated just how riled up he would get, but I still knew at least one thing was true.
"I trust you."
There was a flash of relief and affection in his eyes - just a moment, before it disappeared again.
I chased that feeling, but also wanted to feel this man finally find catharsis. He wanted to show me how angry he was but was holding back. There was a happy medium.
So with wanton eyes I took one of his hands into mine, gingerly lowering it from my face.
"You would never hurt me, Daddy." His reaction to the words were immediate, his hand flinching under my extremely tender touch.
"At least..." I whispered, placing his hand against the column of my throat as I finished, "not more than I ask you to."
When he removed his hand almost immediately, I frowned in mild disappointment, but understood why he might not be comfortable with that. Still, it would be fun.
Then again, maybe he had other ideas. Because as I sat perched on the chaotic scattered papers, he was nonchalantly removing his belt.
"Ooo, you gonna spank me again?" The words were mostly a joke, but he was actually considering it after my suggestion.
"Is that what I have to do to make you get it?"
I happily shrugged, raising my eyebrows as I giggled. "You should do it, anyway, Daddy. Hurt me."
With a heavy exhale, he threw his belt onto the couch behind him. "See, this is why I can't." He gestured to my relaxed posture across his property.
"You have way too much fun when you're supposed to be getting punished."
He wasn't wrong per se, but it revealed another problem with his strategy. I crossed my legs, feeling the familiar sensation of my dress straps slipping off my shoulders. His eyes followed each movement I made, like he was choosing his favorite course of action first.
"So what are you gonna do then? Cause it all sounds pretty fun to me."
A sinister smirk appeared on his face, and I could feel something shifting inside of him as he spoke in a low, breathy voice.
"You really need to learn when not to push me, little girl. I know a lot of very fun ways to make you shut up."
Our eyes locked as the back of his fingers brushed softly against my cheek.
"At least, they're fun for me."
My already half-lidded eyes fluttered shut, sighing at the sensation.
"I guess I'll just give you what you clearly think you want."
Roughly shoving his hands up my dress, he readjusted my hips to yank my underwear off. The smooth wood of the desk under me cold against my heated skin.
"I bet you think you're real cute letting him put his hands all over you," he said with a smirk, dropping the fabric to the floor before leaning over me. His words tingled against my ear, the animosity bleeding into my soul.
"But now I'm going to remind you why you always come back to mine."
That was the only warning I got before his hand was wrapped around my neck, applying a light pressure just below the sides of my jawline. The smoldering eye contact continued as he began to undo his pants, freeing himself within a few seconds.
Still able to take small, struggled breaths, I whimpered as he hesitated. Holding his face inches in front of mine, he urged, "Don't lie to me, little girl."
I knew what question was coming and was able to get out a few words.
"T-there hasn't been anyone else."
Call me foolish, but I didn't feel the need to ask him. Something about the way he touched me told me everything I needed to know.
He inspected my face for a moment longer, a small wave of relief washing over both of us at the admission. I had told him before, though. He had ruined me. I didn't know how anyone else would ever compare.
"Good," was his response before he lined himself up against my heat. I closed my eyes, which led him to loosen his grip on my throat. But I wasn't lightheaded from that; I was overwhelmed with the anticipation.
I wrapped one leg around his waist, and he took it as the permission he sought. The lamps on the desk rattled as he thrust into me. It had been awhile since I had been with him, and my body's response was heightened as a result.
How could I forget how fucking good this felt?
Spencer must have forgotten, too, because his pace started with some semblance of control that was quickly thrown to the wind. My hands were still sliding over all the items strewn about, but his hands kept me anchored against him.
"Fuck," he panted as he began to drive into me with all the pent-up passion from the last month. Still, he somehow managed to keep an even pressure on my neck, and after about 30 seconds stars began dancing across my vision.
Raising a hand to my throat, I tapped it gently. His hand immediately retreated, and he instead wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against him to recoup my breath.
But his pace and force did not relent, and I could already feel the sensitive skin of my backside burning from the friction against the desk. Any marks left, though, I was certain would be worth it.
The rhythmic, numbingly pleasurable clashing of our bodies together wasn't just fueled by hate and anger. There was that possessive sadness; the guilt from our last fight propelled our desire. With each motion of his hips, I felt closer to him.
All that cheesy stuff they say about making love being the becoming of one – I deeply understood it. Because still trying to fill my lungs, I was elated that it was with the smell of his cologne. His hands dug into my skin like they would actually fuse into me.
Our lips met again, this time firm and unarmored. His moans filled my mouth as I canted my hips forward, trying to allow him deeper into me. He enthusiastically complied, pulling me almost entirely off the desk as he did so.
I didn't care. I trusted him to catch me if I fell.
That raw, unrelenting passion I felt so often with him was fully flowing between our lips, hands, and souls. I cried out as he grabbed my thighs now wrapped around him, pulling them down against his hips as he thrust into me.
The air between our eyes sizzled, and I craned my neck back, trying to communicate any way I could without using my words. Luckily, he was able to figure it out. We usually were.
He dropped one of my legs, and it fell under the pressure of his hips crashing into mine. His hand settled against my pulse point once more, and I felt my excitement peak to new heights.
"You better sound really fucking sincere if you tell me to stop after you beg me for this," he mumbled, closing his fingers tightly against my skin. My mouth fell open in a smile, my eyes trying to stay focused on him as he chased our release.
Unable to handle the sight of Spencer completely lost with pleasure, holding onto my neck while plowing into me, I was finishing before I even knew it. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I struggled to take a deep breath as his groans filled the room.
My body tensing around him, I could hear one of the lamps toppling onto the ground. The sheer chaos all around meant nothing to either of us. I was thankful that my eyesight began to clear as he bottomed out inside of me, because the look of satisfaction and relief on his features was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.
As he flooded my insides with his essence, I felt a second wave of warmth and pleasure overtake my body. I shivered, goosebumps rippling across my skin as my vision got fuzzy. Luckily, he removed his hand from my neck at the same time. I was nodding off from the exhaustion and inebriation when he caught me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back up to rest against him.
I clung to him this time, savoring the way it felt to be a mess of tangled limbs with him. I took deep breaths, burying my face into the crook of his neck. His hand stroked the back of my head, and I could feel the way my heart was simultaneously healing and breaking all over again.
So... What now?
I wasn't sure. We stayed like that for awhile – longer than we needed to. We stayed holding each other in a tender embrace, our fingers committing the patterns to memory. There were no words, although I had many things I wanted to say to him.
I was the one to pull back first, and Spencer quickly retreated. Once we were apart, it was like the distance stretched back between us immediately. Any gentle affection dissipated into the tense, angry air from before.
Weren't we both too tired to keep this up?
Then again, it's only exhausting if you're emotionally invested. His jealousy didn't necessarily have anything to do with me. More often than not it's just a product of pride and narcissism. I swallowed, climbing off the desk and making my way to the bathroom before Spencer so much as turned back around to face me.
In the small room, I pat cold water on my face, careful to clean up any stray make up. Brushing my hands through my hair I asked myself why the fuck I was here. I didn't have an answer. How fucking ridiculous.
This man made me stupid.
Once I was acceptably put together, I exited the bathroom and found my phone in my purse strewn across the floor. I was tapping at the screen, feeling the distinct aura of Spencer staring at me from a few feet away.
"Well, Spencer, it's been swell," I said, clearing my throat as I opened the ride sharing apps to figure out when the fastest car could get to me, "but I'm gonna head out."
There were no immediate responses, probably because he was trying to build his case.
"Promise I won't die. I can go stay with someone else if that helps."
When I finally looked up at him, I realized it was a mistake. He had that distant sadness in his eyes, which he quickly averted.
"Fine," he muttered in a voice that made it very clear that it was very much not fine. But if he didn't want to fight for me, then I wasn't going to make him.
My thumb hesitated over the confirmation button, and I decided not to press it yet. I wanted to give him one more chance before I let him go forever. I could just call it once I got outside.
But please beg me to stay.
Our backs both to each other, the sound of the knob clicking open by my hand was much too loud. I felt like I couldn't breathe, hearing just that sound through the rushing of blood in my ears.
"(Y/n), wait."
Oh thank god.
A breath shuddered from my lungs as I held the door open, tersely asking, "What?"
"I just..." He sounded far away, and I could tell that he still wasn't looking at me. Was the sight of me leaving that hard to see? I understood; I didn't want to look at him either right now.
"I need you to know that you aren't nothing. You aren't nothing to me."
I choked on the sob that immediately sprung into my throat, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to contain the emotions crashing over me in this moment. I wasn't ready to respond yet. I needed more after what he had put me through.
"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness... But I'm asking for it, anyway. And I need you to know that... that's a big deal for me."
My eyes clenched together, my hand shaking under the pressure I was placing on the knob in my hand.
"I'm so, so sorry," he said through obvious tears, "please don't leave."
My hand slid off the handle, and I felt the streams of tears flowing readily down my face. When I turned around, I saw him holding his face in his hand, waiting to hear the sounds of my leaving.
"Okay." I said softly, causing him to look up and see me red-eyed and frowning. "Okay, I'll stay."
I approached him with a quiet caution. He looked at me, briskly wiping the tears still forming. Tight lipped and scared, my voice broke as I conditioned, "But you have to talk to me, Spencer. I can't do this. You can't treat me like this."
He nodded solemnly, his arms seeking me out like a desperate child. Once they were around me, I could feel the way his body shook from the sobs wrecking his body. In a way it was comforting to see him openly displaying emotions, letting them flow from him and into my hands. But it was also terrifying, to see how much pain he was withholding.
"I thought I lost you," he sighed, the words smothered in my hair. "I-I don't know what I would do if I lost you."
The words wrenched my heart, and it took me a moment before I could hold him back. My hands were frozen around him until they weren't, settling down against his back slowly at first. But soon we were holding tightly to each other, scared that any antipathy might break us.
"I shouldn't have told Morgan," I finally said, the words slurred through tears and his clothes, "I'm sorry, Spencer."
"Don't apologize," he laughed, rubbing against my back with the perfect amount of pressure to be calming and reassuring. "I should just be grateful someone like you worries about me."
How did he always do that? How did his words make me melt?
Was it the way he tilted my head back, kissing me through the salty tears spilling from our eyes? Was it something in the way our shared breath always tasted sweeter? I couldn't figure out how Spencer Reid managed to make me feel so profoundly.
I didn't really care to know, either. I just wanted to feel it with him.
Once the tears had finally slowed, he led me to his bed that was starting to feel like ours. Was it possible to fall in love this quickly? Was I wrong to think that this was anything else?
He laid me down on his bed and pressed his lips against my forehead, brushing the hair out of my face before going to climb into bed beside me. I could barely stay awake but wanted to see him lying next to me. Once I could, my heart felt so much lighter. He was smiling despite his eyes remaining glassy.
"Spencer, I-I..." my voice was so soft I thought it might not even be audible.
"I lo-" He heard me, his hand shooting up to hold a finger to my lips, quietly shushing me with a smile.
"Shhh. Go to sleep, little girl," he whispered in the little space between us.
"We can talk about it when you wake up."
Drifting off into that comforting, warm darkness, I mumbled with a pout, "Promise you'll still be here?"
"Yes," he replied in earnest.
I turned on my side, holding my hand up to him with the pinky extended.
"Do you pinky promise?"
A warm, full-bodied laugh shook through his body as he grabbed my pinky with his own. He leaned forward as he did it, kissing me once more on the lips. It was an unhurried, painstakingly gentle conclusion to a rather chaotic night. But all that stress melted away with his reply.
"I pinky promise."