Summary: When Reader comes over unannounced, Spencer tells her that he's sick.
Content Warning(s): Adults w/ age gap (10yrs), penetrative sex, Daddy kink, impregnation kink, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex/creampie, degradation, aftercare included
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It had been less than a week since I'd seen Spencer, but it felt like a lifetime. Now that he was officially my boyfriend it felt like the honeymoon phase all over again.
At least, it felt that way to me. Spencer seemed distant these past few days, though. Not like he used to, but in a different way. Like something had happened he didn't want to tell me about.
Then again, maybe he's not allowed to. I don't know. Days like these I hate his job.
On my way home from school I'd decided to stop by his place. But when I called him on the phone, he mostly just seemed bothered. Like I'd ruined his plans.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed that he seemed displeased by my presence. I know it was unexpected and kind of late, but I was trying to do it to cheer him up.
He seemed so... far away.
Writing it off as jet lag when he insisted that he still wanted to see me, I tried to seem as excited as I had been when I knocked on his door.
He didn't answer it. Instead, I heard a muffled voice call out, "Come in."
The room was pitch black when I entered, and I almost went to turn on the light. I realized he left it this way for a reason.
My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, but I didn't go to the figure I saw sitting in a chair across the room.
"Spencer, is everything alright?"
We had promised not to lie to one another. We also promised to be more trusting. I needed to accept whatever answer he gave right now.
"Yeah..." he grumbled in the least convincing way as he switched on the lamp beside him.
"I just think I'm coming down with something. I'm not sure. My head is..." He trailed off, his hand shielding his eyes from the light just as much as it massaged his temple.
He looked like he was in so much pain. I approached him at a moderate pace, hoping that I might think of something to do before I reached him. I couldn't, so I did the next best thing.
"Is there something I can do to help?"
He grimaced at my words, even spoken at a low volume. "No," he fumed, not so much angry at me as at the situation.
I'd never seen him like this before, and I was already not a fan. I was crouched in front of him, looking up at him with my hands on one of his knees.
"Can I touch you?"
Pondering my words for a moment, he finally lowered his hand, those beautiful lashes flickering as he tried to adjust to the light.
"Yes." It was not permission; it was a request. One that I was glad to accept. So I hurried behind the chair, my hands smoothing over his shoulders as I began to work the weary yet tense muscles.
He sighed a breath of relief as I continued, his head rolling to one side as my fingers pressed against the knots that had formed from days at a desk.
"Fuck." He breathed, reaching up to hold my wrist for just a second before falling away again.
I recognized the way his legs shifted open, his hands gripping his thighs before flattening his palms again. My touch was doing more than just relax him, I suppose.
That's why I wasn't surprised when he spoke.
"Come here, little girl," his words were slurred and low as he beckoned me to come back around to him with a slight movement of his fingers.
As I did so he clarified his request with a pat on his thigh.
"Sit on my lap."
I gladly obeyed, mounting him so that I could face him, and enjoy the way I could look him in the eyes before he kissed me.
His mouth was desperate, and his hands clutched me like a feral beast would its first catch after a long winter. I complied fully, granting him the little release I could.
But it was clearly not enough, as frustrated, pained pants rolled from his mouth and his lips trailed to my neck. Rocking my hips against him, I could feel how badly he wanted me.
His erection strained against his pants, and I certainly wasn't helping. But I couldn't control myself. He was positioned so perfectly against me.
There was something holding him back before now, but it was quickly fading into nothing as he pulled my shirt to the side and scraped his teeth against the soft skin of my shoulder.
I rewarded the action with a small whine, my hips moving more excitedly now. He breathed hard against my neck, seemingly drunk on the way it felt to be close to me like this again.
"Daddy needs you, little girl."
The words hit me like gasoline on a flame, feeding the desire already burning deep inside me. I could hardly breathe, my lungs filling with the smoke of our hunger.
"Please," he all but growled against my neck, "let me use you."
There was something thrilling and intoxicating in the fact he was begging me for something that he so often took as offered. He knew that he could have me at any time, so why was he asking?
I wanted to know.
"Yes," I said with a low moan as he held my body down against him as my movements in his lap continued, "Take me."
"I need you to listen to me first." That gentle, touching tone returned as he pulled me back by the fabric of my shirt. His tongue swept over his lips in an attempt to slow down his words.
"If I start to hurt you, you have to stop me."
Oh, god, I'm so fucked up, I thought as the words immediately caused heat to bloom between my legs.
"I can take it, Daddy," I cooed, resuming the eager grating of my sex over his own arousal.
"You don't have to," he said insistently, holding my face firmly forward to make sure I looked into his eyes. I felt the power behind his words as he said, "There is only one way you can fail me, and it's by letting me hurt you."
If his previous warning had turned me on, this instruction melted me into nothing.
"Do you understand me? Do not let me hurt you."
With a small, self-effacing nod, I gave him the confirmation he needed. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as hips hands shifted to grab hold between my legs with one, the other on my arm.
I was a little surprised when he stood, relatively effortlessly flipping my body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. There were no words between us as he brought us back to his room.
Something about the way he carried me like dead weight made my heart beat erratic.
The force with which I was dropped on the bed was enough to shake my resolve, not to mention the way he immediately and roughly grabbed my legs, dragging me to the edge of the bed and flipping me onto my stomach.
I clutched at the sheets in an attempt to retain some sense of balance. When I turned to look over my shoulder at him, I saw him already working at his pants. His shirt remained on, and he barely lowered his bottoms to reveal himself.
"Turn around and put your face down," he commanded, and something in his voice told me that I shouldn't dare try to be a brat right now.
So I listened, dutifully turning back to face the bed, lowering my head so that it hung above the sheets. The first thing I felt was his hands yanking my shorts and underwear down as I lightly kicked my legs to try and get them to fall off.
He didn't seem to care. His thighs pressing against mine was the next noticeable sensation. I closed my eyes, my breath short and nervous as I tried to keep my eyes forward.
But then his hand was wound in my hair, and Spencer's tone morphed into something even darker than before.
"I said put your face down." Suddenly, it was forced against the mattress, and I turned slightly to the side so I could still breathe, taking a desperate gasp of air.
"I don't want to see your fucking face."
I'm so fucked up. My only reaction to the words was a whimper, my legs pressing together tightly as they sought out friction to pair with his words.
We'd been rough before, but this was an entirely different version of the man I knew. The weight he put on my head should have frightened me, not excited me like it did.
That was still nothing, though, compared to the way he slammed into me without any warning at all, eliciting an actual, honest to god scream from me. The sharp pain from the sudden intrusion quickly faded, and the immense pleasure I took in feeling him take charge of my body washed over.
But it was like he knew that, and he timed each of his thrusts to coincide with the lack of pain. Soon each time he plowed forward into me, I couldn't help but cry out, my hands clenching the sheets to try and stop my body from sliding against the bed from the force he exerted.
The hand that was in my hair pulled it taut while simultaneously forcing me into the mattress, and I struggled to breathe around the sheets. I was beginning to understand why he made sure I knew I could stop him.
I didn't want to. Because despite the way he forced me to endure the pain, it didn't hurt. It was invigorating, the way I shook like a ragdoll underneath him.
Not only was this my opportunity to feel what it was like to lose control, to have someone else responsible for me, it was also my opportunity to physically share whatever Spencer had bottled up.
And god, was there rage.
His hand holding my hips back to keep them where he wanted dug into my skin so hard I could have sworn his short nails might draw blood. My entire lower body was shaking each time he pressed himself to the hilt inside me. I was being pushed to the limit.
When his hand released my hip, I thought it might be to give me some relief.
It was not.
He switched which hand was knotted in my hair, which led to my head rolling backwards from the arch of my back in the absence of pressure. Surprisingly, he let me keep it up for a moment. Of course, it made sense seconds later when he lifted my entire upper body with the new grip.
The new position meant that I struggled to reach the sheets. I swore I heard him laugh at the way I moaned in a mix of pain and pleasure as he hit against my cervix.
"Do you feel that, little girl?" He whispered cruelly in my ear, and I felt tears sting at my eyes at the brutal overstimulation. Still, I didn't want him to stop. I wanted to feel the true, unreserved power of him.
"All it would take is one mistake and you would be stuck with my child forever," he chuckled, an absolutely ravenous rasp to his words that tore through me with an even sharper sensation than his cock buried in me.
"Have you really thought this through? I could ruin the rest of your life. Do you really trust me?"
My eyes rolled into the back of my head, my mouth hanging open in a desperate attempt to breathe. My body was so hyper-fixated on the burning between my legs to even notice his other hand coming up to my neck.
"Answer me," he ordered while his hand tightened its grip, meaning that it would be hard to speak even under normal circumstances. There was no way I could answer him right now and he knew that. Which is why he was still laughing at the pathetic mess of a girl in his hands.
"Is my cock fucking your tight little cunt too distracting for you?"
I tried to nod, but ended up choking on my spit, leading him to release his grip ever so slightly, letting me take a few full gasps of air.
"What if I just..." his arm dropped down to my waist, pulling my hips as far down against him as he could, letting the rest of me fall and hang forward, held up only by my hair and the spot where our bodies were joined.
"...Stop?"
My hands reached down to his arm around my waist, just so I could have something to hold on to. He let go of my hair, causing me to drop down face first into the sheets, my whole body squirming in his grasp.
"Please," I whimpered, my hands now scrambling to settle between my legs, seeking my own release that had felt so near for so long.
"Please what, little girl?"
"Ruin me, Daddy!" The guttural cry that tore from my throat must have even surprised him, because I could almost hear the smirk on his face as he replied.
"One of these days, I will." This time he lowered himself to press his chest against my back, and I finally managed to reach my touch starved center.
"I will fuck a child into you. So you better be real careful, little girl." He was grunting through his words, his hips moving once more in short, concentrated bursts.
I couldn't respond any longer, all of my energy focused on frantically chasing my own orgasm as he neared his own.
"Or else... that day will come sooner than you think."
Just like that, he bottomed out in me, his firm member pulsing wildly as he emptied himself against my cervix at the same time I finally found my release.
I was lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, the heat, and the struggle. It was altogether dizzying, without even mentioning the way he moaned in my ear at how my body readily accepted everything he had to offer.
Barely able to breathe under the weight of him, I gave a soft mewl to signal that I was ready to move. Luckily, he understood the command, rolling onto his side and pulling me with him. Still, I pulled away from him, not sure I could stand having him inside me much longer without falling apart.
He retreated with a grunt, sweeping his arm over to pull my body flush against him as he did. I didn't squirm now, completely helpless to whatever his hands commanded.
"Stay with me for a little longer," he pleaded against my hair.
I felt the way his pulse fluctuated, trying to return to our previous states. There was no objection from me, laying with him for some indeterminable amount of time.
His skin against mine was no longer scorching, settling into a comforting warmth. His hands that had gripped me hard enough to bruise now hovered over me like I would shatter at their touch.
He still recuperated much faster than me, planting a kiss on the top of my head as he left.
"Stay here."
Once again, I initially obeyed, but mostly because I couldn't fathom moving yet. Although after he took longer than I was expecting, I could feel evidence of our actions dripping slowly between my thighs.
Shifting down, I tried to find the ground with trembling legs. It didn't work very well, leaving me half leaning on the bed when Spencer finally returned, shaking his head at the sight of me unable to stand.
"Still not following directions."
When he got to me he dragged a warm washcloth up my thigh. I sighed at the way it bled into my suddenly cold, clammy skin. He cleaned me carefully, like he were trying to clean dust from a delicate flower.
Once he got enough from my legs, he wrapped his arms around my thighs and lifted me back onto the bed. From there, his hands trailed down one of my legs. I just watched quietly, enjoying the way he worked the tired muscles of my thighs as I had done for him earlier.
I kept myself propped up, wanting to see the way he worshiped the body he had just finished brutalizing - And worship was the only word that would adequately describe what he was doing.
When he started his ascent on the other leg, he seemed lost in his ministrations. Almost as if he had forgotten that I could see the way he dragged his lips across my inner thigh, breathing in the way my skin smelled after he forced us together.
"Dulcius ex asperis," he mumbled against me.
My eyebrows raised, my eyes sparkling with fascination at the foreign words. Did he know what happened in my dream? Did I predict this somehow?
"Speaking Latin to me, Dr. Reid?"
"Ita." He remarked with a cheeky smile.
I rolled my eyes at the equally foreign response. He placed my leg tenderly back on the bed, sitting down next to me as I finally let myself fully fall back onto the mattress.
"Do I get to know what it means?"
He traced his knuckles up and down my jaw, fixing the stray pieces of tangled hair that were matted against my skin with sweat.
"Just know it's a reminder of how it feels to have you." He vaguely replied.
I wanted to grab his hand, but I couldn't. I think he could feel that though, because he took the time to begin to massage my arms the same as he had my legs. Watching him with blatant adoration, a thought crossed my mind that I needed an answer to.
"Did I help?" His answer was almost immediate. "Yes. Thank you. I'm so proud of you."
Readjusting my body, he pulled me up to rest my head on the pillow and tuck me under the covers. The softness of the actions alone brought me energy to wiggle in my place.
Flashing a sunny smile, he leaned down to kiss my cheek.
"Now let me look at my beautiful little girl."
I would have, but he immediately began to attack my face with more quick, chaste kisses from my nose to my chin.
"Show me your smile," he urged, his hands coming up to cup my face as I began to giggle from the way he tickled me in both a figurative and literal sense.
That was his sign that it was safe to stop, and once he did, he knocked our noses gently against each other as he announced, "There she is."
For a moment I thought that he would kiss me, but he didn't. He just stayed there, staring deep into my eyes as I smiled, his face full of reverence and desire.
"What did I do to deserve you?" He spoke to me like a prayer, "You are... everything."
"You're... the metaphysical impossibility of beyond infinity," he extolled, his eyes barely able to stay open like he was staring into the sun when he looked at my face.
"I don't know how you exist, or why I get to be the one that holds you."
"But you do." I stopped him, my hands finding the energy to move to place my fingers over his lips.
"I do," he said against them like he had just realized it, "And I would do anything for you. Do you understand that?"
"I do."
Continuing to gush my praise, his hand on my face struggled not to hold me too tightly. He kissed my fingers that then dropped his lips.
"As long as you are mine, I won't let anything happen to you."
He laughed as he saw my pinky rise up between us, and he took it with a grin.
"Yes, I pinky promise."
It wasn't a fair promise, I know. There were so many horrible things that had happened or could happen that he wouldn't be able to stop. But I knew that this was important to him. That he needed to feel like he could protect me.
I certainly wasn't going to stop him from trying.
The way he kissed me then was so pure that I almost forgot the way he had ravaged my body not thirty minutes earlier. The filthy words he had spoken seemed so far away compared to the gossamery sweetness I was experiencing.
But one more thing did burn in my mind that I wanted to ask. Something I had brought up before that had fractured our budding relationship.
"Did you mean it?" I asked between kisses. He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he undoubtedly replayed the horrible words that he had used in the heat of the moment.
Since I knew he was stuck on the fact he had refused to see my face as he used my body, I shook my head no.
"Not that," I explained, taking only a little pleasure in the way he was able to breathe easily again.
"Do you... Do you really want me to have your child one day?"
Just like that, he couldn't breathe again. I could see all the words vacate his mind, some animalistic desire inside him rearing to the forefront of his mind.
"I-I don't know... I-I'm not... Why?"
The anxious stammering was such a dramatic contrast to how confidently he had told me before. I had to giggle, intertwining our fingers as I hummed. I wasn't exactly sure how to answer his question.
The longer I took to answer, the more frantic he seemed. Deciding to cut him some slack, I clarified, "I don't mean tomorrow, Spencer. But... like you said. One day."
"Y-you think you'll still be around?"
It was that moment that I remembered how deeply insecure this man could be. Here he was, staring at the woman that just openly let him use her for whatever he desired... asking if she wanted to be with him.
"If you'll have me."
"If?" He said, his teeth shining under the dim light of the lamp. It didn't matter how dark the room was around us – he always shone so bright.
"(Y/n), I... I don't know when it happened but. At some point over the past 155 days, 4 hours, and..." he looked over at the clock on his bedside table, earning an entertained smile from myself. "37 minutes."
I laughed even harder now, grabbing hold of the collar of his shirt to keep him close to me until he finished.
"I gave you my heart. I don't know when exactly. But it happened and... I'm not sure I can take it back anymore."
My heart stopped in my chest. He had all but said the words we were both dancing around. The moment wasn't right yet. We were still too scared.
So instead, he just joked, "Even if I wanted to. Which... I don't."
"Yeah, you can't have it back," I muttered under my breath, "It's all mine now, you dirty old man."
When I pulled him down into a kiss, he only reciprocated for a moment before turning away.
"Yeah, about that. We're going to have to... address... the whole decade age difference at some point."
I sighed as I let go of his collar, pushing him lightly away from me as I rolled so my back was facing him.
"Tomorrow," I whined, burying my face into my pillow on my side of the bed. "I'm exhausted"
My eyes were closed, my breath evening out quickly as I reflected on the past few moments. But the love I felt reminiscing was nothing compared to the love Spencer pressed onto the top of my head with a kiss.
"We've got all the time in the world. I'm not in any rush."
As I heard him shedding his clothes and climb into bed beside me, I happily mumbled back, "G'night Spencer."
"Sweet dreams, little girl."