#(mixed messages also applies to tryst)

[mayflydecember]

red flags by tom cardy feat. montaigne except its tryst valentine and aava arek

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 3 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer decides to return to a previous tryst. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Dom!Spencer, handcuffs, hair pulling, oral, fingering, penetrative sex, rough sex Word Count: 9k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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It was a Saturday night and I had nothing to do. My roommate had gone home for the weekend and all my other friends were at bars. I could've joined them, but it just didn't seem worth it. The last time had been so perfect, I just couldn't imagine that anything else could compare.

I'd tried going back to the same area a few times, but I never saw him again. Then again, seeing me back there might just piss him off. Then again, that would've been okay, too. He was pretty cute when he was mad.

But I wasn't looking at a cute boy that night. No, I was just sitting in my apartment, staring at the textbook that I wasn't even interested in reading. Wishing that something could save me from the boring limbo I had found myself in.

Then, like magic, my phone stirred to life beside me.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

I looked down at the LED, fully expecting it to just be someone tagging me in a picture of a cat. But it wasn't. The number was one I had saved in my phone, hoping that I would see it pop up again one day.

It had been almost a month. I didn't think it would ever happen. But there it was; a text message from Dr. Reid himself.

"Hey (y/n)."

When I slid the message open, I saw he was still typing.

"Long time no talk," was his second message.

That was an understatement.

"Hey yourself."

It was a cursory response. I wanted him to sweat a bit. He'd made me wait, so now he had to deal with the consequences. But then I changed my mind and immediately followed with a second text of, "Texting isn't talking you know."

"You never called. Why should I?" His response was so quick I swore he'd planned this all out in his head. He was playing me like a chess board. Bet he was good at that, too.

"It takes two to tango, Dr. Reid," I jokingly replied.

He read the message, but he didn't answer.

Getting nervous that he was losing interest, I continued typing.

"I figured you wouldn't want to see me again after I made you late. Are those marks still there?"

I smiled at the memory, because I knew he wasn't there to call me out for it. By the time he'd finally made it down to his ride, I had covered his neck in petechiae and his back was equally marked with scratches.

I'd wanted him to remember me.

It'd worked, too.

He'd been typing for a while and I was getting anxious. It had been a bold message to send, and I didn't really think it through.

Was he trying to let me down easy? No, that didn't make any sense. Who the fuck texts a one night stand at 10:30 PM on a Saturday after not speaking for a month just to end things?

He responded.

"Sadly, no. And I wouldn't be so quick to assume I don't want to see you because of that... Revenge is a powerful motivator."

That was the cheeky bastard I wanted to see. I could be cheeky, too.

"Is it?" I asked.

"Where are you tonight?"

His answers were starting to make my heart race. I had to get ready, because he was definitely about to ask me to be his booty call and I was definitely going to do it. Closing my textbook, I shot back another teasing reply.

"Not a club. I'm being a good girl tonight. All by my lonesome."

Thank god my roommate wasn't here and I had somehow been bored enough to clean today. I pulled out my make up and turned the light on my mirror on. As I started to apply it, I got a message that immediately solidified my answer to his inevitable proposition.

"Do you want to change that?"

'God, yes, I do.'

I waited another minute, wanting to be able to finish at least the bare minimum before he saw me. I knew he wasn't a superficial guy, but the last time he'd seen me I had gone full out.

"Which part?" I responded, already knowing his answer.

"Both."

So unpredictable in the most satisfying way.

I took a deep breath and a pause, tapping back a confident reply.

"Are you trying to entrap me, Agent?"

His reply was within seconds, and I was immediately reminded of how incredibly clever this man was. He knew exactly what to say to make me melt.

"Is that what you want?"

I wanted to pick up the phone, dial, and scream yes. But I didn't, opting instead for a calm and composed, "That would certainly be exciting."

My application grew significantly quicker, and I was already eyeing the special drawer I had for these exact situations. My mind was running through my collection of sheer fabrics and lace details, trying to decide what would work best.

Then he said the magic words:

"Send me your address."

Spencer was coming over, and it wasn't a dream. I was going to have that strange, brilliant, beautiful man back in my arms and I wasn't going to fuck it up. With shaking hands, I thumbed out my address with no other commentary. In a few seconds, I would know how long I had until Spencer Reid was in my apartment.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Thank god. It was time enough to prepare.

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Spencer Reid was going to be at my door at any minute, and I was suddenly terrified that he'd be disappointed. Convinced that I'd done everything wrong.

We'd had a good time before, right? I'd played over and over again in my head ever since it happened. I was reminded of the soft way he'd touched me in the morning, the childish laughs we'd shared, and the smell of his cologne on the sheets.

God, I hoped he wouldn't be disappointed.

Knock Knock Knock.

When I heard the sound, I immediately tried to fix my appearance in the mirror despite having spent the last 20 minutes doing whatever I could given the time. I had opted for one of my easier-to-remove loungewear pieces. A simple white lace negligee. He seemed like he'd like simple. The little hint of purity, however silly, would also probably appeal to him.

Slowly exhaling, I composed myself before opening the door.

"Hello, Dr. Reid."

He looked as handsome as ever, although I did have the distinct impression that it had been awhile since he had a full nights sleep. I wondered why, but decided not to dwell on it. 

"Hello yourself," he responded, his eyes ravaging my figure the very moment I stepped out from behind the door. He waited for me to take a step back and fully open the door before he walked in, and I watched the way he scanned my apartment.

I wondered what he saw.

"How can I help you, Agent?"

It was a tease, and based the look on his face when he finally turned to me, it took him a moment to figure it out. He was too much in his work brain. I could feel it. I'd never seen him at work, but I could tell.

"You seem tense," I spoke coyly, stepping closer and running my hands up his chest and onto his shoulders.

He didn't speak; instead his gaze bored into me, like he was going to lose his composure any second. But he held himself back. 

"Can I help you with that?"

That dark shine in his eyes was getting stronger.

"That depends."

As he spoke the words, he finally touched me, a sneaky hand finding its way to my hip. I gasped at the sensation and my eyes fluttered shut. He always had this immediate intoxicating effect on me that I just couldn't explain. I didn't care to, either. I just wanted to keep feeling it.

"Hmm... On what?" I murmured.

I tried to keep track of his hand as it sneaked to my lower back before pulling me closer. I tilted my head to look up at him as I opened my eyes. I just wanted to see that look again. That starved, possessive stare that made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

Although he appeared stoic, I knew there was something brewing. I knew that he was reveling in the effect he had on me.

Such a quiet, peculiar mind.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, and I recognized the question as something deeper.

He was asking me for my limits. He wanted me to tell him what he was allowed to do. I didn't know how to tell him that I would do anything for him.

How could he not already know my answer? Perhaps it was just his attempt at being a gentleman. But I didn't need him to do all of that tonight. I'd much rather see something more... feral.

"Whatever you need," I answered as sweetly as I could. 

I heard his soft chuckle. It brought a smile to both of our lips, and he used his free hand to stroke the side of my face. I quickly leaned into his touch, trying to prolong the contact for as long as I could. 

"Is that so?"

Yes, I thought before saying, "Anything."

His thumb glided over my cheek and to my lips, gently separating them as he stared at me with a morbid curiosity. He was wondering how far he could actually push me. So was I.

In lieu of an answer, I slipped his thumb into my mouth, running my tongue up it before closing around it. The gentle sucking was mixed with soft rotations of my tongue. His breathing rate increased as he stepped forward and pressed his body flush against mine.

"And if you change your mind?"

What a gentleman.

I wouldn't change my mind, but I chose to indulge him with the proper form. I released his thumb and held my mouth open for a second before biting down on my bottom lip.

"Hmmm," I hummed as I thought about what I might be able to say to set him off.

I needed a safe word that would drive him wild. The thing was, I only knew a few of his interests. But I did know enough.

"Starship," I giggled, a little nod to the enterprise we'd already bonded over.

The effect the word had on him was immediate. His hand shifted to hold my chin. He used that grip to push me against the wall to the side of us, and our mouths connected just as harshly.

What a ridiculously sexy nerd.

The impact of my back against the wall was nothing compared to the fire coursing through my veins. My hands scrambled to grab onto his belt buckle, already trying to unwrap the present meant just for me tonight.

Once I'd gotten the metal separated, I smiled into the sloppy, heated kiss. He stopped, pulling away just enough to look down at my satisfied grin. He didn't say anything.

"What's that look for?" I said with half-veiled bashfulness.

Had he noticed something strange that I hadn't intended to display? Was I going too fast?

"Nothing. It's just..."

'Please don't be something I did wrong.'

"You're so cute when you think you're in charge."

I couldn't control the way my hips rolled against the front of him as he spoke, and I licked my lips before concluding, "I am in charge."

I don't know how Spencer was so fast, but he was. Within seconds, he had both of my wrists pinned against the wall behind me. Just as quickly, he shifted so he could hold them both up with one hand, the other lifting the side of negligee so he could touch the skin of my hip. I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Adorable," he whispered to me.

Naturally, my body reacted by trying to regain control, to touch him more somehow. He knew this, which is why he took a step back, letting go of my wrists and watching them fall back to my control.

"Are you challenging me, Dr. Reid?"

He gave a content, sarcastic smile before shrugging.

"No, I'm not, actually. It's not a challenge if I already know I'm going to win."

I could barely notice the way I puffed out my own chest in response, ready to give him the challenge he was so clearly begging for.

"Fine."

I put my hands in the air in surrender, turning and strutting my fine ass down the hallway in front of him. I didn't turn around, and I didn't tell him to follow. He would. I was confident in that.

I took a seat on the side of my bed, crossing my legs over the other and looking down at my nails with a bored expression. Before I knew it, he was crossing the threshold into my room. He walked up to me, his hands in his pockets and a voice filled with too much confidence.

"I know what you're doing."

He had something up his sleeve. I could feel it.

"What am I doing, Dr. Reid?"

The way he approached me reminded me of a hunt. The cautious, quiet strides toward me were purposeful. He stopped just in front of me, with my foot resting against his shin.

"I thought I already warned you what would happen if you did this."

"Do what?" I feigned innocence, raising my hand to my neck before perching my chin on it and leaning forward.

"Tease me."

That time when his hand made contact, it was on the top of my head. He ran a gentle hand over my hand, and the feather light touches almost tricked me. I'd almost thought he just wanted to appease me. To end my temper tantrum. But shortly after he had gripped the back of my hair in his hand and used the new grip to roughly tilt my head back to him.

"I thought you said you were going to be a good girl tonight?"

I bit down harshly on my lip to stifle my giggle as he tightened his grip.

"Oops," I said with a smile.

Suppressing my laughs enough to string together a sentence, I pressed my hands against his chest while he maintained his grip on my hair.

"I guess if you really want me to be a good girl, Dr. Reid... You'll have to make me."

That instruction was what I needed to break the man in front of me. It was the command he'd been waiting for; the bait for him to finally take what he came for.

Before I knew it, he had spun me around. He abruptly yanked my arms behind me at the same time he bent me over the side of the bed. An unfamiliar, harsh, and fucking freezing material on my wrists told me all I needed to know. The clanking of the short chain when he released my hands was music to my ears.

That beautiful son of a bitch actually brought his handcuffs.

"At least one of us follows orders," I joked, happily remaining on display for the man behind me.

I'm sure he noticed earlier that there wasn't anything blocking him from taking what he wanted underneath the negligee. But he didn't take it. Instead, he pulled me up by the chain, letting me teeter onto my feet before he twirled me back to face him.

"Get ready to learn."

Spencer slowly began removing his tie from his neck while he watched me squirm. His threat raised the tension in the room, but he gave me no clue as to what he was about to make me do.

I couldn't wait.

Once he had removed his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt. It was infuriating not being able to touch him, and I was quickly becoming impatient. It was shocking that it somehow wasn't awkward. I guess I just liked him that much. My thighs were pressed together, and the friction from rubbing them back and forth was the only stimulation I could find right now.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed, shooting me a warning glance that I knew meant to stop. I did, but only because I was worried he would make me wait even longer if I didn't.

"Get on your knees."

I swayed back and forth, prying my hands apart to shake the chain holding my hands back.

"I can't," I said with a pout.

Spencer seemed to be entertained, and for a moment I thought he might give in.

He leaned over, a quiet breath in my ear as he gave a few words of caution.

"Get on your knees or I will bend you over mine."

My legs shook at the way his breath felt on my ear, and the words made me want to melt. As always, he knew exactly how to get me to do what he wanted.

Deciding that I didn't want to be a full on brat right off the bat, I gradually lowered down to my knees and threw him yet another pout from my new position.

"I want to touch you," I whined before tugging at the chain again.

He must have known it was a test. I had been so open to the hand cuffs being on before, and I still was. I just wanted to see how much power my pout had. Judging from his response, my puppy dog eyes didn't have very much power at all.

"You don't need your hands for that."

In a twisted sort of way, I was glad. I wanted him to do whatever he needed. I wanted to be what he needed. I would be the fight he could always win.

So, when he finally pulled his pants down and let them fall to the ground in front of me, I leaned forward to reach him.

I was quickly stopped by stern hand fisting my hair once more, leaving me hanging in front of him with nothing fun to show for it. He didn't say anything, just watching me as I returned soft whines and rubbing my legs together again.

"For a brat, you're very eager. You don't even realize you're challenging my authority, do you?"

Per usual, he was right. Even on my knees and handcuffed before him, I was trying to take back my control. He at least offered me the control over my neck again, though. He released my hair, smoothing it over the top of my head as he licked his lips. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

"Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just let you beg."

I bounced on my knees, trying to express what I wanted without resorting to outright begging. Not yet.

"I'll listen to you, I promise." 

"Good," he acknowledged. "Open your mouth."

I obeyed, as I'd just said I would, opening my mouth wide with my tongue forward to receive him. As he pushed into my mouth, he would only give me a couple inches before retreating. He continued this pattern until he had gotten over half of it into my mouth.

That time, he paused, granting me a pleased groan as he let his head fall back. I responded in earnest, continuing to move forward as my tongue swiped over whatever it could reach. When I pulled back, I barely released any of him before going even further forward. I looked up at his face to see if he was impressed.

He was.

Shortly after, I choked as he hit the back of my throat. I receded enough to take a deep breath through my nose. I wished I could use my hands, but I appreciated the novelty of the cuffs for at least this one time.

I swore he heard my thoughts. Because after I finished my breath, his hands found the back of my head and pulled me even further onto him. If my hands were busy, he would just use his own.

That time as I choked, I swallowed. I could feel him slip further down my throat, blocking the air supply just for a second. When he pulled me back, I knew this was just the beginning.

Once he knew what I was capable of, he was ready to take control for good.

Sure enough, he set a moderate pace of thrusting into my throat, keeping direct eye contact with me as he did so. I paid all my attention on making sure I timed my breath, feeling tears prick the inside of my eyes as I let him take over.

He was so beautiful like this. I thought about what it must be like for him at his job, that I was the first thing he came to. I decided right then, that he would never feel powerless with me. I would be anything he needed.

Suddenly, his pace slowed down, eventually coming to a stop. He slipped himself out of my mouth, and the strings of spit snapped onto my chin. I couldn't do anything to stop the running make up or saliva with both of my hands behind my back.

I was certain I looked like an absolute mess. My knees were weak from the position, and Spencer had never looked so pleased. Bending over, he grabbed me under my arms and helped haul me  up onto the bed.

His hands casually wiped the tears from my cheeks, and he used the back of his hand to clean the area around my mouth.

"You are so beautiful," he uttered.

'Oh my god, I think I might love him.'

"You're not bad yourself," I croaked, my voice hoarse from what we'd just done.

"Tell me what you want," he dared me, his hand dropping from my hand down to my lap.

"Whatever you want."

It was the answer I had already promised him. I'd meant it before, and I'd meant it then.

He had still maintained eye contact, staring directly into my soul as he slipped his hand between my thighs. The lack of underwear made his job so much simpler, and I was thanking myself for not putting another barrier between the two of us.

Because as much as I wanted to be patient for him, I was growing desperate. Which is why when he finally touched me, his finger slid into my heat with ease. The slickness that had pooled was more than even I expected from the complete lack of stimulation I had received.

His finger wasn't there for long. He briskly removed it and held it up to my face before rubbing them together. He smiled as I struggled to breathe through the teasing.

"I've barely touched you... And yet..." he taunted, causing me to roll my hips, trying to get to something wholly out of my reach.

I was ready to start begging.

"Please, Spencer."

"Please what? Use your words."

He was loving it. He knew damn well that I had absolutely no control over what I wanted. I couldn't grab him, and I couldn't touch myself. All I could do was beg.

"Fuck me. Please."

It was as straightforward as I could possibly be.

"Still so impatient... so needy," he laughed, his hand returning to its place between my thighs.

I wailed as he began thumbing my clit. It was mind-numbing. He knew that I desperately wanted to be filled, and he was doing the exact opposite.

"Yes," I panted. "I need you. I need you to fuck me. Please."

Spencer didn't stop, continuing to stroke the bundle of nerves with quick, repetitive motions.

"Not yet, little girl," he growled in my ear.

It didn't take long for my cries to pick up, my hips rocking furiously as he drove me into my first orgasm. A steady flow of pants and cries were mixed with mangled attempts to call his name. He still didn't stop, refusing to touch me anywhere but the one spot until I finally ceased shaking.

I almost fell backwards, but he caught me with an arm around the waist. I could barely see straight, and ever such a gentleman, he held my delirious body upright for a moment. I could tell he was wondering if I was alright.

The concern mixed with overwhelming desire was too much. Even as he tortured me with pleasure, I could see what an incredibly kind man he was.

That was the only way this would work, I thought. I had to trust him. And I did. I trusted him with my life.

"Tell me what you want," he uttered, offering me a guilt-free retreat that I would not take.

"You," I purred. "I want you, Spencer."

Finally allowing himself to give in to both of our desires, Spencer turned me onto my stomach one more time. When I heard the crumpling noise of foil as he tore the condom wrapper open, I raised my hips into the air. I stood on my tip toes and rested my head and chest against the bed.

He didn't say anything else, lazily rubbing the head against my sex. A trembling, relieved sigh escaped my lips as I felt him breach my opening. He took his time inching into me, savoring the way I clenched around him as he stretched me open. I wished I could see the look on his face, but I could barely keep my eyes open as the rapture overtook me.

Once he was fully in me, he paused, grabbing hold of my locked wrists as yet another reminder that he was the one in charge. I

wasn't going to fight him if he kept it up, that was for sure.

Almost pulling himself entirely out, he jerked me back at the same time that he snapped his hips forward and bottomed out inside me. I yelled out at the sensation, which clearly urged him on. His pace went from composed to frenetic in a matter of seconds, and each time he would slam into me, I couldn't stop the loud moans and cries from spilling out of my mouth.

He didn't let them dissuade him. I was pretty sure that he very much enjoyed the fact that I couldn't control myself. That he was the one doing that to me. But, in typical, sympathetic Spencer fashion, he leaned over me from behind and wrapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the noises.

Didn't want to alert anyone of what was happening behind closed doors, after all.

I could barely breathe as he fucked me into the bed, my feet lifting off the ground from the sheer force he used in each thrust. I let him take out all his pent up frustration on me, enjoying the harsh sting as his skin slapped against mine.

I wasn't going to last much longer. We both knew that we were riding dangerously close to the edge. As much as I didn't want it to end, I was ready to fall off that cliff with him.

His thrusts became jagged and stunted, and my thighs tensed tightly together. I chanted his name into his hand, unable to control myself as I felt my muscles flutter around his cock, urging him to finish with me. He happily obliged, pulling me roughly back to him one more time. Our hips violently collided and he held me down as far as he could onto him before emptying himself into the latex.

I could feel the soft twitching of his cock, and I started to wonder things you're not supposed to wonder about a booty call. I'd come back to that later.

A booty call. A one-night-stand.

Were we still just that? I wasn't going to ask... yet.

It felt so cold when he peeled himself off my back and slowly removed all of himself from me. I whined at the friction following the overstimulation. My legs shook terribly as my feet scrambled to touch the floor.

I couldn't see him, but I heard him throwing the condom in the trash before going through his clothes. Soon after, his hands were gingerly repositioning mine, granting him access to remove the cuffs. Once he'd slipped them off, I realized just how numb my arms had gone. They flopped uselessly to my sides, and I struggled to move my fingers.

Spencer's arms were around me before I knew what was going on. Delicately, he turned me onto my back despite my protesting groans. His touch was so gentle in a way I can't explain. He was acting like I would shatter at his fingertips.

"Wait here," he spoke in a hushed voice, placing a gentle kiss against my cheek.

I would wait anywhere for him.

While I did just that, I moved just enough that my entire body was on the bed. I inched up to the pillows and waited to regain my strength. My wrists were irritated and dented, but I couldn't really care. If anything, it would serve as proof that this night wasn't just a wild fever dream.

I saw Spencer out of the corner of my eyes, carrying an assortment of items that I couldn't help but laugh at.

"I come bearing gifts," he snickered before gracelessly dropping two bottles of Gatorade, a bottle of Advil, and lotion onto my bed.

"My hero," I spoke through the daze as I watched him pull his underwear back on. Understanding that the Advil was to stop my wrists from hurting, I took a couple quickly before I couldn't help but snicker at the sight before me.

"Awwe. I like the way you look without them, though," I teased, motioning to bottom half. "You have a cute butt."

He just chuckled, sitting down next to me and pumping lotion into a hand before motioning for me to give him my wrist.

I turned onto my side and presented him with my hand. Once he started to work the tired, abused muscles, I watched his face. The way he carefully admired the muscles while he worked, like he was trying to rebuild my wrist to the way he found it. He was so careful.

After a few moments, he held out his hand to switch, to which I also obliged.

I muttered a soft, "Thank you."

He only gave me a fleeting glance before returning to our hands.

"It's the least I can do. After what you let me do."

It was a bit of a joke, but also very genuine. He didn't call it aftercare, but that's what this was. I was familiar with it.

He was good at it.

Once he was satisfied that my wrists were going to be okay, he turned to his side to look at me. I looked up at him and wondered if he noticed that I saw the world in his eyes. I wondered if he could sense the overwhelming joy that flowed between us. I wondered if it was just in my mind that it was going both ways.

"I hope you know that I really do appreciate you," he said with a surprisingly serious tone.

My heart fluttered in my chest in a very inappropriate manner.

"Is there anything you need from me?" he asked.

Yes, I wanted to answer. Everything.

I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't.

This doesn't mean anything, I reminded myself. He was just doing what he had to.

"No," I lied, instead. 

I think he knew I was lying. Of course he knew. Nonetheless, he draped an arm over me and scooted closer to me until my head rested against his arm. He gave my forehead a chaste kiss, and moved his fingers unhurriedly against the bare skin of my back.

I could've fallen asleep just like that, but I didn't want to. I wanted to feel that close to him forever. The freedom and happiness flowing through me was so intoxicating that I'd started to think about my previous thoughts I had during sex.

He was about that age men started to want kids and...

"Do you want kids, Spencer?"

'Oh, fuck, did I say that out loud?'

He looked as surprised as me to hear the question, and for a moment his hands stopped clean in their tracks.

'Oh no.'

"Uhh," He cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do. Wh-Why do you ask?"

Although he continued to drag his fingers across my back, it was different now. He was suddenly much more distant. Because seriously, why the hell would he not? We barely knew each other, and I definitely sounded like a crazy person.

"I was just wondering. You're good at taking care of people."

It was true. If he noticed I was covering my ass, he didn't say anything about it. Thank god.

"I'm not actually too sure about that. Right now you just think I'm good at it because your body is coursing with endorphins and adrenaline. The chemical process of love is extremely finicky and easily mimicked. Especially post-orgasm. Once that goes away, you might find you feel differently about me."

I doubted it.

Still, I shifted away from him, backing up so I could see his face again.

He continued, "You know, almost half of women surveyed said they felt anxiety and overwhelming sadness after sex. They even coined a term for it, aside from the typical sub-drop discussed in communities of more extreme sex. 'Post-coital dysphoria.' It's a shame really, that the idea of reassurance after sex isn't more mainstream."

Sometimes it was easy for me to forget he was some kind of genius. I always saw him at his most confident, which happened to also be his most quiet. As he taught me about things that I definitely should have been taught in high school sex education (but was not), I was not filled with anxiety or sadness.

In fact, I was happy.

I didn't really know him that well yet, but I wanted to.

"I can see why people mistake sex for love sometimes, then," I mumbled, not realizing the weight behind my words. It seemed obvious to me in the moment that he wouldn't think I was talking about us.

But then he pulled his hand back, running it through his hair and clearing his throat again.

"Yeah," he agreed, nonetheless, "It's pretty common."

I took a deep breath, panicking on how to pull him back to me. I lightly stretched, shifting to sit up and put some literal distance between us before the figurative distance was too far.

"Well, no worries here, Dr. Reid. I can confidently say I am not in love with you."

I could feel his eyes following me. I said I was confident, because I was. I was not in love with him.

Was I falling in love with him? It was a different question. I didn't know the answer to that one.

I excused myself for a moment to go to the bathroom and freak out in isolation. I could not believe I was somehow incapable of controlling my words around him. He just had this face that made you want to spill your heart out to him.

Did he know that? Whatever. It was easier to blame him for being so damn cute.

When I made it back to the bed, he was already half-asleep. He looked so peaceful and unassuming compared to the dominating personality I had seen not even ten minutes ago. As quietly as I could, I sneaked into my side of the bed. He began to stir, so I came up behind him and wrapped an arm over his waist.

"You know, they say it's dangerous to stay the night after a one-night-stand," I whispered, resting my face on his shoulder. "People might get attached."

"Technically this would be a two night-stand, so I don't think the same rules apply," he grumbled before placing his hand over mine on his stomach.

"Well, if you really  want to get technical, we are a one-night-stand plus a booty call," I corrected, earning a playful scoff from the man beside me.

"Pretty sure those are mutually exclusive."

I tried to repeat to myself that he was just trying to be nice. He was doing what all people are supposed  to do after sex. It didn't mean anything, I tried to convince myself.

It didn't mean anything.

"You're right."

I still tried to convince myself. It still wasn't working.

Fuck it.

"We could be something more. If you want to," I suggested. I'd sounded absolutely bored by the idea on purpose, but it still hadn't been enough to convince him that I wasn't out here proposing marriage to a fucking bootycall. 

His entire body tensed under my touch, like my words had inflicted pain. From my position half on top of him I felt his chest stop moving as he held his breath.

I shouldn't have said it. It was easy to say that in hindsight. But the truth was, I wasn't the only one blaring sirens of my growing attached to the kindhearted man who'd just massaged my wrists. Spencer had always been the one to be blatantly affectionate with me. It was him who had wanted to make this a recurring habit in the first place.

He was the one that always chose to stay the night. He was the one who initiated it. It wasn't just me who wanted something more, but he had to be a stupid, proud man like the rest of them.

"(Y/n) I—"

I knew that tone. I'd heard it before. He was going to tell me he couldn't be with me. We couldn't 'date,' or whatever he'd convinced himself the mature version was of the juvenile phrase.

But I already knew that. He was a fucking FBI agent and he was 10 years older than me. I barely knew anything about him. Had he ever even had a girlfriend? Did he have one now? I didn't even know, and that wasn't what I'd asked. 

Still, he was struggling to come up with a way to let me down easy, and I didn't want to hear it. It was going to be a lie, anyway. So, I covered his mouth with my hand and stopped him before he ended things for good.

"Friends, Spencer. I meant we can be friends."

Suddenly, we could both breathe again.

"I'd like that."

The tension melted from the room, but only so much. There was still a wall between us. I wasn't sure if it'd ever go away, but that was a problem for another day. 

"Me too," I lied.

I didn't want to be friends. I was scared what 'friends' meant. I was nervous that what I'd done was give him an out to never talk to me again. I was petrified that he'd lose the ability to see me as anything more than a collection of mistakes he'd made.

I didn't tell him any of that. If he noticed, which I'm positive he did, he didn't say anything about it. I was sure he wouldn't. Because even though he was about to shut me down, I knew part of him was craving the intimacy I was willing to offer him. I figured I'd just have to do it quietly for the time being. Wouldn't be the first time a woman took responsibility for a man's feelings.

At least the sex was worth it.

I tried to pretend like that's all it was. After a minute of listening to his heart beating rhythmically underneath me, though, he rolled over once more. Unable to leave him behind just yet, I joined him. I turned so he could pull me as close to him as he wanted.

There was never a barrier between us when the words were removed. My body fit next to his like it had been molded for that purpose. I curled into the warmth and I savored the quiet moments that I was convinced could never come often enough.

As I drifted off into sleep in his arms, our legs tangled together like we were part of the same two headed beast.

My last thought of the night was the one I'd been trying to avoid.

I don't want to be friends, because friends don't do this.

—————————————————  

Waking up next to Spencer in my bed that morning was somehow even more ethereal than before. Although I'd shifted several times in my sleep, he'd found me in the darkness each time so that he could cling to me again.

I didn't want to move. I was worried I would wake him and we'd return to our previous lives like this had never happened. I thought back to how tired he had looked when he first got here. I still wasn't totally certain what a profiler is, but the haunted look in his eyes and the tension in his muscles told me it wasn't easy.

I ghosted my fingers over his hand splayed out on my stomach, and the touch only served to make him pull me closer to him.

He was like a child with his favorite toy, desperately seeking out the comfort only I could provide him. I continued to run my hands along his, eventually going up his arm and quietly giggling at the goosebumps that formed. I didn't want him to wake up, but I also didn't want him to be awoken with another notice that he had to leave.

I wondered what the morning would be like without a time limit.

When Spencer began to stir, the first thing he did was bury his face between my shoulder and neck. I giggled at the tickling sensation of his breath, and he responded by peppering the area with short, light kisses.

It was my favorite way to say good morning.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I said through the laughter. 

He didn't speak, just humming back contentedly as his kisses became more involved.

"Now who's the needy one?" I teased, tilting my head to grant him more access.

"Still you," he sighed against my skin.

"You know what I really need?" I began, starting the impossible task of turning onto my back while he refused to let go of his hold on me. "Coffee."

I couldn't help but laugh at the playful groan he released in response. He clearly agreed, and even followed the joyful sound with, "And they say the perfect woman doesn't exist."

It didn't mean anything, I warned my heart as it began to race. It was just a joke.

"Well, I didn't for the first ten years of your life. But don't worry, Dr. Reid. You have me now."

The brag, paired with the reminder of our age gap, earned me my release from his embrace. I was sad to lose it, but I'd also been scared of the effect it had on me.

"Your humility is my favorite part," he said in jest as he watched me squirm out from under his arm.

I stuck out my tongue, and he spoke again.

"Wait, never mind. I forgot about that part. That's my favorite part."

My face burned as I sucked it back in before pouting and climbing out of the bed. Grateful that I still had on my negligee, I stopped to pick up his clothes and tossed them onto the bed.

"Come on, lazy bones. I don't know how you like your coffee."

He just smiled, that gentle yet goofy look that told me he was enjoying himself. I didn't stay to watch him get dressed, deciding he deserved his privacy, despite the fact that I had shoved his dick down my throat the night before.

When he got to the kitchen, the pot was already on. I was leaning forward against the counter, half asleep on my propped up hand. He didn't take a seat at the table. He positioned himself directly behind me and wrapped an arm around my chest.

The man just couldn't keep his hands to himself. I wasn't complaining.

He slipped a hand beneath the front of my negligee, becoming more daring as he gently kneaded my breast and his mouth continued to mark my neck.

"What did I do to deserve all this attention now, Dr. Reid?"

It was a serious question. I had literally just been standing there. I had just woken up. I hadn't even cleaned my face.

"Nothing. You just exist."

I both chuckled and scoffed at the answer. So much for not wanting things to be emotional. Being the more responsible of the two of us, I focused on the way his tongue devilishly drew different sounds from me.

He suckled gently on the side of my neck, and his fingers began to tweak my nipple. A moan was ripped from the back of my throat as I jutted my hips backwards against him.

"God, when you react like that I can't help but think you want me to fuck you over this counter."

He was right. I did. Men weren't the only ones who had to deal with illicit thoughts in the morning. I figured he knew as much.

"Please," I begged, moving my arms so I could brace myself against the ceramic.

"Only because you asked nicely."

He withdrew from my neck. I heard as he drew familiar, crinkly foil from his pocket and I giggled at the anticipation. At the knowledge that he'd clearly pulled one from his wallet before he ever left the bedroom.

Soon enough, his fingers were trailing up my inner thighs, quickly encountering my very wet center that was still affected by the night before. Upon realizing I didn't need any preparation, he skipped it entirely. Slowly and with purpose, he slipped inside of me. I let out another loud moan as he filled my sore heat.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter under his breath.

I loved to know he couldn't entirely control himself with me. I wanted to know how I made him feel. It wasn't like the other times. There was no battle for dominance; I submitted to him immediately and freely. He was not rushed or driven by high emotions. His thrusts were slow, deep, and intimate. One of his hands returned to my chest, paying special attention to the breast that had been ignored before.

I leaned forward into his hand, my back arching to provide him with whatever relief he was looking for inside me. I panted out his name as my own version of a Sunday morning prayer.

It went on like that for a while. He took his time with me, like he was memorizing each nook and crevice he could reach. My legs were beginning to shake from his intrusion and also from my impending orgasm.

"Spencer..." I whispered his name differently this time, and his hands withdrew. I whimpered at the loss. But my disappointment was short lived, as his hand found its way down to where our bodies met. I gasped at the contact.

"What, (y/n)?" he asked with the utmost concern, beginning to make soft circles around my clit while he continued to fuck me from behind.

"I-I'm going to..."

I couldn't finish my sentence, collapsing forward as the stimulation became too much to bare. As it usually did, his other hand grabbed hold of my hair, clutching it tightly to pull me back up to him.

"Then do it."

His statement was a demand, but also its own beg. He wanted to feel me finish before him. I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to. The way he commanded control of my body was a force that could not be ignored. The ever tightening coil inside of me snapped, causing twitches and spasms to rack my body.  My mouth tried to call his name, but my voice didn't come out.

I tried to grip the ceramic when he began to pick up his pace, fucking me harder as my orgasm went on. I knew how much he loved to feel me come undone from the inside. But he held on, continuing his brutal pace until even after I had devolved into a panting, dripping mess underneath him.

My soft mewls from the sensation of being fucked through peaked bliss were still not enough.

"What do you want, little girl?" he growled in my ear as he leaned forward, somehow thrusting harder. Another moan was bubbling up my throat as my feet left the ground with each impact.

"I want... I want you to cum. Inside me."

It was a beg laced with pants and high pitched whines. It was what he wanted to hear.

He grabbed one of my hands, guiding it to my lower abdomen and holding it there. I didn't realize why until the next thrust, when I felt a bump form as he moved within me. I hadn't even considered how deep within me he was. He was showing me how much of me belonged to him.

I'd already known, but the reminder was nice. 

With a few more rough, deep thrusts, he had buried himself inside of me, and I could feel it against my hand. From within me I could feel him spilling into the condom.

I remembered my question about children. I remembered his answer.

That beautiful, sneaky bastard was imagining what it would be like to make me pregnant, whether or not he would admit it. I had put the thought in his mind. I just wasn't expecting it to have that profound of effect on him. I was more turned on by that than I'd like to admit.

I had said that I'd do anything for him.

He didn't say anything else. He released my hair and pulled out of me. He left me to prop myself up on the counter the best I could while my body trembled from the loss. 

At some point, the coffee pot had finished. I figured there were worse ways to pass the time.

Spencer was gone when I turned around. I figured he had gone to the bathroom to clean up, and I tried not to think anything of it. I poured two cups of coffee and pulled out the cream and sugar.

When he came back, he'd come with his phone. He sat down at the table and silently read through messages from the past hours he spent with me. I watched him prepare his drink, immediately downing some of the contents despite its temperature.

"Good lord, do you even have feeling in your throat?" I asked, laughing as I continued to stir my cup.

"Interesting you would be the one to ask me that. After last night, I wondered the same about you."

Touché.

"Did you get any interesting messages? Is the ever-so-busy Special Agent Dr. Reid going to be whisked away from me without a proper goodbye again?"

The words were laced with only a little bit of bitterness. He ignored it.

"I don't know if I would classify our goodbye last time as improper. At least, not in the sense you're using the term."

He was avoiding an answer. I figured he had to go. Or, well, he wanted to.

That's fine, I told myself. He can go. Even though I didn't want him to.

I watched him, the way he continued to nurse his drink with one hand and look at his phone with the other. I tried to suppress the hearts forming in my eyes.

"When will I get to see you again?" I asked, my tone full of trepidation.

"I'm not sure," was his honest answer, given without ever looking up at me.

"We should do something fun."

That made him look up, with a sly grin forming on his face.

"Not like that, you perverted old man," I laughed.

He raised his eyebrows, choosing not to reply outright to my taunt just yet.

"As much fun as we have in bedrooms, I don't know much about you. I'd like to change that," I explained. 

He watched me carefully, his eyes shifting away as he began to overthink it. I could see the cogs of paranoia turning in his mind. I think even he knew he was being sort of ridiculous.

"As friends, Spencer," I reminded with a gentle smile. "Let's do something fun. As friends."

The reserved half smile he gave would be good enough for me.

"Sure," he conceded, which filled me with a bubbly happiness I tried (and failed) to conceal. "I do have to go now, though. If for no other reason than wanting to change."

An understandable concern. I was fine with him leaving if I knew I would see him again this time. But still, something about him leaving so soon hurt a deeper part of me. I wondered if it was that dysphoria he was talking about, but decided not to question it, lest he tell me it was something more worrisome. Something like infatuation. 

I nodded, leaving my coffee on the table as I took his already empty cup. He stood up, waiting for me to return before the both of us walked over to the door. Something about his hesitation resonated in me. My puppy dog eyes were out in full force as I stared up at him.

I wasn't able to smile as he left.

"I'll see you again soon. As soon as I can," he assured me.

I wanted to believe him, but I hated that I didn't know when that would be.

He reached a hand down, brushing loose hairs from my face and commanding my attention that I so readily gave. 

"Don't look so sad," he instructed. "It makes it hard to leave."

My chest swelled with anxiety and adoration. I wasn't sure how to combat it. I hugged myself with one arm, and Spencer shook his head with a laugh.

"Still not following directions."

He didn't seem to mind all that much, though. He leaned forward and cupped my face in his hand. Our lips pressed against each other with a tenderness that made my head spin. We kissed each other in a way that was carelessly romantic.

When he pulled away, he stared into my eyes for a second too long. And when he waved goodbye and walked out of my door, I couldn't get the thought out of my mind.

Friends don't do this.

—————————————————  

| Part 4 |