vampirewrites

[vampirewrites]

Spencer Reid being pretty...

Sometimes I think I have a problem.....

Though, can you blame me when I have a boyfriend who looks that stunning? He's just sitting there reading. god, I just want to ride him or his face, I don't care, I'll take either! He's so pretty, it makes me ache! He looks up, catching me staring. I blush, looking back at the TV, trying to pretend I wasn't just drooling after him. I see him smirk and put his book down, moving to sit next to me, whispering in my ear.

"You staring at me,"

i smile up at him "maybe i was," his hand going to brush my hair behind my ears "can your blame me? your so damn pretty " he chuckles, blushing softly "Your such a flirt," he whispers, I go to kiss him, his hands going to the sides of my face holding me close. "and you love it" I tease! going to straddle him, his hands going to my hips, looking up at me with dark lust-filled eyes. he goes to kiss my neck, and nipping,

"You're such a little minx, but you're right, I love it," he groans between kisses, starting to leave marks up and down my neck. I run my finger through his hair, pulling slightly, and he grunts softly, you barely hearing, only feeling it on your neck. He stops suddenly, picking me up fast. My hand holding on his chest, wrapping my legs around his waist I let out a little squeal, "Spencer?" I ask as he strides towards our bedroom.

"Don't act surprised now, little one, I need you," he groans. I smile, going to kiss his neck, knowing I'm going to get just what I wanted.

[vampirewrites]

I lost my mind at the title!! 🥵

Like A Goddamn Vampire (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Is this considered crack fic? It also has smut so (inspired by this chaos I caused that @ssamorganhotchner then added to with the pictures of Hotch's neck...I regret nothing)

Warnings: secondhand embarrassment, established relationship, THAT DAMN POLO, neck biting, hickeys???, kind of sub!hotch, making out, grinding, i clearly have a thing for making him cum in his pants, y'all idk what this is don't look at me

WC: 1.5k short n spicy

You’re not a vampire. You swear.

You don’t have a good reason for why you want to bite your boyfriend, other than the fact that he looks delicious. Especially while driving.

“Why are you staring at my neck?”

“I’m not,” your reply comes quickly and gives you away entirely. This is what you get for dating an FBI profiler, the Unit Chief of them, no less.

Aaron smirks. “You were.” He pauses. “Are.”

Your eyes flick back to meet his. You hadn’t even realized your eyes had fallen down to his neck again. You look away from him, focusing instead on the passing scenery. “Lovely weather today.”

Aaron laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to rest it on your thigh. You nearly bite your own fist to keep yourself together.

“Honey,” he says, squeezing your leg. “I don’t mind.”

Your head turns toward him, curious. “Don’t mind what?”

“You staring at me.”

“Okay,” you say, your eyes falling down to his neck and collarbones again.

“Is there something on my neck?”

“No,” you blurt, shaking your head as if shaking yourself out of a trance. “No. No, I’m just--” You look ahead at the road, trying to figure out how to word this in the least embarrassing way. “I’m just. Looking.”

“At my neck.”

“What do you want me to say?” you cry, almost certain at this point that he’s teasing you. Or worse, mocking you, but you doubt it’s that. It’s almost certainly his little game of teasing you around the point until you land square on it.

The truth is, he’s always in a suit. Yes, when he stays at your place or you at his, he’ll wear a t-shirt and get comfortable. But it’s been so long -- maybe two weeks -- because both of your work schedules have gone awry, and you’re having withdrawals. Maybe that’s the explanation. It’s been almost two weeks of not seeing your boyfriend naked, and you’re losing it.

The two of you are on your way to lunch on your first joint day off in two weeks and he’s wearing a fucking polo shirt with the buttons undone and you’re losing it.

“I’m just wondering what has you in such a daze over there,” he asks, tone veering toward gentleness. “Are you okay?”

Dear god, now he thinks you’re upset and spacing out instead of horny and wanting to bite him.

“I’m fine,” you squeak out when his thumb starts stroking your inner thigh. You turn to look at him, using a surprising amount of willpower to look at only his face. “I’m great.”

He glances at you briefly, smiling. “Good.”

Good. Great. Wonderful, even.

You make it through lunch, able to focus on everything except Aaron’s neck. Your food is delicious, the weather is genuinely great, and you love to people watch.

Aaron loves to people watch, too. Except this afternoon, he seems keen to only watch you.

You squirm in your seat when you catch him staring at you again. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. “You’re just beautiful.”

“Oh,” you smile, staring down at your food. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You look up, keeping the smile, and managing to only glance at his neck for a second. You nod. “I’m okay. I think I was just hungry.”

Aaron doesn’t seem convinced at all. He’s seen you when you’re hungry, and you’re not usually staring at his neck for minutes on end. He lets it go, though.

Until he catches you staring at his neck again, later that night, when you’re both sitting on his couch, trying to watch a movie while you wait for the oven to preheat for dinner.

Aaron pauses the movie and you don’t even notice until he’s turning to face you on the couch, taking both of your hands in his.

“Why’d you pause it?” you ask, glancing between the TV and Aaron’s neck-- his face.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, starting to genuinely sound worried. “You’re spacing out a lot today.”

“No,” you shake your head, an embarrassed smile crawling up your neck. “No, it’s not that--”

“What is it?” he’s almost pleading, moving his head so he can meet your eyes because you won’t look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“You’re too hot!” you blurt, and then immediately groan, grabbing a nearby pillow to bury your face in it.

And Aaron is laughing.

“Can you actually just take me home?” you say, muffled from the pillow. “So I can spare myself the embarrassment. Yes I’m taking the pillow with me.”

“Honey…” Aaron reaches for your waist, pulling you toward him, so much so that you are pulled into his lap.

You keep the pillow in front of your face, though you’re starting to giggle now. Even as Aaron tugs it down gently, peeking at you over the top of it.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold, feigning annoyance with a furrow to your brows that Aaron just thinks is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” he swears. “I’m not. Can I put the pillow down?”

“Fine,” you murmur, letting him toss it away. You rest your hands on his shoulders, thumbs dangerously close to the collar of his polo shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, hands finding your hips. “Is that all?”

“It’s been so long,” you sigh. “And I hadn’t seen you like this in a while.”

Now he’s confused. “Like what?”

“Not in a suit,” you muse, your eyes falling to his neck again. “I like your neck.”

You can see him holding back a laugh. 

You glare at him playfully. “I said don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he promises, starting to smile. “You’re just cute.”

“Cute?”

“You just said you like my neck.”

“And?”

“That’s adorable.”

“Is it cute that I want to bite it?”

The confession falls from your lips before you can stop it. You’ve never understood how someone’s eyes can darken, but you see it now, in Aaron’s. The way his pupils dilate. His hands adjust on your hips, pulling you against him. 

“You can,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“I can what?” you ask, though you know exactly what he means.

“Bite me.”

You blame how fast you move on the fact that it has been two weeks. That’s the only explanation for the way your body reacts, instantly surging forward to kiss and suck at his neck, and to finally bite.

Aaron pulls you up for a kiss after just a few seconds, and you try not to whine into his mouth.

“You’re insatiable,” he says against your lips.

“It’s been two weeks,” you argue, gasping when he nips at your bottom lip.

He smiles against your mouth. “Did you leave a mark?”

“On your neck?” He nods. “Do you want me to?” He nods again.

You grin this time as you lean in, returning to your favorite place. You kiss and lick to your heart’s content, eventually settling on the spot right behind his ear. It’s just inconspicuous enough for you to leave the tiniest of love bites there, sitting back after a moment to admire your work. The skin is red where the bruise is beginning to form, and you thumb over it.

Aaron, meanwhile, is staring at you with a heat you’ve never seen in his eyes before, his chest heaving. And when his hands tighten their grip on you, you feel just how hard he is underneath you.

When you go to circle your hips, he stops you. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” you inquire, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his lips. “All I did was bite your neck and you’re right on the edge, aren’t you?”

Aaron damn near whimpers against your mouth. “Maybe.”

“Do you think you could cum just from this?” you murmur, pressing your hips down and smirking when he doesn’t stop you. His fingers go slack against your hips, clearly using all of his energy to keep his orgasm at bay. “Do you want to try?”

He nods again and you capture his lips with yours, spreading your legs even wider to grind your core directly on him. The seam of your jeans gives just enough delicious friction to make you feel good, but you know you won’t climax from this. Aaron, however, only gets louder as he tries to keep himself together.s

“Come on,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the other side of his neck. “Let go.” You sink your teeth into his neck just barely, right over his jugular vein, and you can feel him twitch even through the layers of clothes. He’s shuddering through it, his hands bolted to your hips and grinding you right where he needs you. It’s intoxicating.

You press one more loving kiss to his neck before lifting your head, then kissing his lips while his eyes remain closed. He opens them when you pull away, that fire still brewing.

“And here I was embarrassed to tell you that I had been staring at your neck all day because I wanted to bite it.”

“You can always bite me,” he says, pulling your face down for another kiss. “I’m about to devour you.”

[vampirewrites]

I need this man!!!

[vampirewrites]

Needing you.

Spencer Reid x GF Reader

Summary: Spencer's been gone too long to make it to bed.

Warnings: None really, fuff, 18+, smut duh,

I'm lying on the couch scrolling through TikTok, trying not to think of Spencer. He has been gone for almost a week now, he has only been able to call me twice so far. The last time I heard from him, he said it would be another week before he could get home to me. I could hear how tired he was over the phone. I've been doing everything I can to distract myself such as doom-scrolling on TikTok and binge-watching Doctor Who but right as I go to get more popcorn I hear keys in the door, he walks in and before he can look up Im running into his arms he chuckles softly letting his briefcase fall to the floor wrapping his arms around my waist ‘y/n’ he whispers “I've missed you” he pulls me in tighter, I nuzzle my head into his neck I've missed you soo much! I whine, he closes the door and locks it, his hands never leaving me. He pulls me into a passionate, heated kiss. I whine softly, “Did you miss me that much, baby?” he groans between kisses. I nod, blushing, “Good.” he picks me up, my legs going around his waist. My Arms are going around his neck. Moving us to the couch, he kisses my neck as he sits me on his lap. I moan out as he leaves sloppy kisses all over my neck! Hearing me moaning for him only makes him want to leave little marks all over you! he pulls me back as I whine, “You little tease!” he groans as I grind down, feeling his rigid member against me. Please I beg he moves his hands touching everywhere he can as we sit there making out and dry humping like teenagers. Breathing heavily, he mumbles praises as his hands rest on my hips, helping me grind down on him. It's been so long we can't wait any longer, he moves one of his hands off my hip down to let his manhood free. taking in a sharp breath as the cold air hits his red twitching cock my hand goes to wrap around it but he stops me “I can't baby it's been too long I won't last” he says a light blush on his chest and face. I smile, going to take off my baggy t-shirt, leaving me in nothing but my panties. fuck he groans out “your so beautiful baby” I bite my lip removing my panties slowly for him. “Baby, please, no more teasing.” It's not often he begs, so I give in, going back to sitting on his lap, slowly sinking into him Ooo-Ah_fuUck Spencer! I moan as I take him all that way, feeling so full “shit baby you're always so tight, my good girl” he groans smacking your ass and rubbing it “Ride me my sweet girl” I blush at the sweet nicknames. I slowly start to ride him, whining at how big he is, no matter how many times I take him, he always stretches me to the point it almost hurts. Ooo you're so big! he groans, his hands going to my hip, moving me, making me take him faster. “I know, baby, but you can take it right, you can be my good girl, right?” Yes! I whine I can take it! he loses all cotrol at my word “fuck” he flips us over so I'm now laying on my back fucking into me like an animal ooOoOo fuck YES!! I moan. “You're mine! MINE!! he groans loud pounding into me “god I missed you so much y/n” his hand moving down to rub my clit I feel myself clench around him oooh I missed you too!! “Fuck y/n Im going to cum baby! Do you want that? you want my cum, don't you?! I can feel you clenching! cum with me!” oooh yes!! I feel myself starting to cum at his dirty words. he keeps pounding into me fucking me through my high “oooooh fuck! take it” groaning in my ear, cumming deep inside me thrusting hard a few more times before he falls on top of me out of breath. I run my hands through his hair, still buzzing from my high. I missed you so much, I say softly. he moved so he could look down at me “I missed you too y/n you have no idea” he held me close playing with my hair. “all I thought of was you, my love, you are the only thing that gets me through my day knowin I get to come home to you”. I love you, Spencer, I whisper, smiling softly, “I love you too.” We fall asleep like that, smiling in each other's arms.

[vampirewrites]

This is one of my favs!!!

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”