Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

Ten minutes later, he was surprised to hear a knock on the door.

"Come in!" He called out from where he was sitting on the only bed in the room.

It was Hotch. He was carrying his go bag with one hand, and had a sleeping bag in the other.

"Draw the short straw?" He asked a touch sourly.

"I volunteered," the other man explained in his customary deep voice.

"Oh." Now he felt like a real jerk. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Hotch said from the middle of the room, his stuff in a heap at his feet. "Morgan shouldn't have been such an ass."

He blinked, completely unused to Hotch cussing in front of him.

"You're not going to sleep on the floor, are you?" He asked, trying to regain some kind of normalcy in their conversation.

"It's horizontal. That's just about all I care about right now," the slightly older man answered wearily.

"Hotch," he gestured at himself and then the bed. "I'm what, half your size? There is more than enough room for both of us in this bed."

He watched his boss look at the floor and then back at him thoughtfully.

"You take the bed, I'll be okay," was the man's stubborn answer.

"Aaron," he said seriously, getting up and walking over to stand in front of him. "Don't be a fool. I know you have enough back problems just sleeping in regular beds." When Hotch seemed intent on arguing with him, Reid sighed and then abruptly grabbed the man's surprisingly warm hand.

"Reid," Hotch said in a warning voice. He ignored the implications within that simple word and proceeded to pull him over to the bed anyway.

"You are sleeping with me, and that's all there is to it." He stated firmly, pushing Hotch backwards onto his bed with a push.

"Sleeping with you, Reid?" His boss asked from where he had sat down in front of him.

He blushed as he realized what words he had used.

"I—," he stuttered out.

"It's okay Spencer," Hotch suddenly gave him a real, but extremely short lived grin. "I understood what you meant."

While he was thankful to find himself out of that potentially embarrassingly conversation, it did irk him somewhat that the other man had immediately assumed that he hadn't meant anything by it.

"I'm not a virgin," Reid declared suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to stare down at his now surprised boss.

"Reid, I'm not sure that I'm really the one you need to be talking to about this," Hotch said slowly, looking warily up at him.

"Maybe I was propositioning you just then Hotch," he continued on, ignoring the warning bells he could now hear blaring loudly in his head.

"Are you okay Spencer?" Hotch was peering at him worriedly.

"Well, why wouldn't I? You're fucking hot."

Hotch was the one left stuttering this time.

"Tall, dark and handsome isn't just a cliché, you know."

"Would you like to talk to someone else on the team? I could get Rossi if you like," Hotch gestured at the door and stood up slowly.

"Not unless you're particularly into threesomes, Hotch," he retorted hotly, grabbing the other man by the front of his shirt and pulling him in close.

"What are—," Hotch spluttered back at him, dark brown eyes widening in surprise.

He didn't let him finish his question, cutting him instead with a sudden possessive kiss to the man's still open mouth.

"Mpph," Hotch tried to speak through his kiss, but he ignored him. He seemed to be getting better at that. Maybe he could blame it all on fatigue when they court-martialed him for sexually assaulting his superior.

He wondered what Strauss would say if he told her that he'd do it all again if given the opportunity. Hotch's mouth was so hot and good; he'd gladly play tonsil hockey with the man every day of the week—provided he was somehow able to find a way around his hang up about being straight.

She probably would be jealous of me. Repressed sexual urges would certainly go a long way towards explaining what's up with that woman.

His need for oxygen finally overruled his body's joy at kissing Aaron Hotchner, and he broke the kiss with a gasp.

"Where on earth did you learn to kiss like that?"

It was his turn (again) to blink stupidly.

"I told you that I wasn't a virgin," he specified, staring back at the slightly breathless man in front of him.

"I'm not a virgin and I've never been kissed like that," Hotch responded, his expression still dazed.

"Ever kiss a man before?"

"Never," Hotch confirmed with a growl.

He nearly jumped as his heart started beating with a renewed vigor.

"Want to be again?" He asked hopefully, pushing his lips back down onto Hotch's again before he lost his nerve.

Nerve? Insanity is a far more accurate description at this point.

This time he successfully managed to push them both onto the bed; more because the other man was likely in shock, and not because he had somehow managed to physically overpower him.

He broke off the kiss with another gasp, but not one caused from lack of oxygen. Hotch's hands were on his belt buckle!

"What else do you know how to do?" Hotch asked him quietly, almost shyly, considering that the man's hands were almost finished unzipping his pants. His boss's hips bucked upwards and he was impressed to feel a hard length pressing up against him.

"When's the last time you were with someone?" Reid whispered, moving his hands down between their bodies as he reached for the top of Hotch's pants.

"Uh." He watched in fascination as the man's eyes rolled back in his head in response to Reid's questing fingers. He stroked him a little more through his clothes and got the same reaction.

"A long time," Hotch gritted out, his face nearly pained as he fought not to react to Reid's skillful hands.

Carefully he unzipped the man's pants and found what he was looking for. His cock was hard and dark with blood, and Reid couldn't help but smile as his hips jerked again.

"I've never done this before," Hotch looked up at him with an almost fearful expression, and he decided to show him some mercy.

"Shh," he whispered, pulling himself out the rest of the way and wrapping his hand around them both. With his left hand, he rummaged in his bag, which was thankfully still on the bed beside them. Moments later, he found something appropriate and pulled it out with a grin. He popped the lotion open with a thumb and then squirted some into his right hand.

"Gonna be a little cold at first," he warned, stroking upwards on his and Hotch's cock slowly. He heard a quiet hiss come from the other man, but otherwise his boss was completely silent as he worked them both.

The lotion heated up quickly, adding speed to his hand, and soon he was watching in amazement as Hotch began to unravel before him. The other man's eyes were closed tightly, breath catching on every stroke, while his hands remained balled up on the cover underneath them.

Reid stroked faster, getting off on Hotch's reactions as much as anything.

"Hold onto me, Hotch," he managed to say as the remains of his control slipped away into nothingness.

His hands grabbed Reid's arms hard, clearly hanging on for dear life as he stroked them off hard and fast.

"You're so hot, so sexy," he gasped out, getting a moan in response. "I'd like to fuck you into this mattress, did you know that? Mark you with my cum, cover every—every orifice," he felt Hotch's body stiffen under his.

The image of Hotch with his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing almost violently as he erupted in orgasm was enough to send Reid over with him.

"Oh Hotch," he whispered as he came hard, lights flashing in his corneas.

From under him, Hotch let out a soft cry as he pumped hard into Reid's hand, sounding for all the world as though the orgasm was breaking him in half.

He held onto their cocks until they were done and then he let go slowly, falling down beside Hotch with a soft sigh.

Were those tears he saw in the other man's eyes?

"Don't move Hotch, I'll get something to clean us up," he finally managed to say after the euphoria of their combined orgasm had died down.

"Reid—Spencer," Hotch grabbed his arm with a sweaty hand.

Definitely tears, he thought as he looked into the other man's face. The sight of his boss in tears covered in their combined cum was enough to give him chills.

"Thank you," Hotch whispered in a hitching voice.

"You don't have to thank me," he answered gently, touching his face and lightly wiping the tears away with his clean hand.

Hotch clearly wanted to argue the point, but after a moment he acceded with a shakily given nod.

"I'll be right back. I promise."

"Okay," Hotch whispered in response, voice still unsteady.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

He watched nonplussed as Rossi walked into his room, go bag slung over one shoulder, sleeping bag in the other hand. The man hadn't even knocked.

Good thing I wasn't jerking off, he thought, feeling unusually crude.

"Hotch has got the idea that I'm going to sleep on the floor and let you take the bed," Rossi informed him in gruff tones.

"Sounds okay—," he started to say, only to be interrupted by the older man.

"Well, not to me," Rossi answered with a haughty expression. "So here's my proposal – either you take the floor, or we share the bed."

Share the bed? That sounded great to him. He wondered what the other man would do if he accidentally humped his leg in his sleep.

Yeah, accidentally, he thought with a grin.

"Better than the floor," he quipped, trying to sound casual about the entire thing.

"My thoughts exactly," Rossi said before swiftly changing into sweat pants and a long sleeved t-shirt.

He tried not stare—really he did—but he couldn't help but notice the rather impressive bulge in his teammate's briefs as the other man dropped his jeans onto the ground. He put himself into bed and turned towards the wall, not acknowledging the fact that he was facing the wall with cheeks nearly hot enough to roast marshmallows on.

Moments after watching the light go out, Reid felt the bed dip as another significantly warm presence slid under the covers next to him.

"Mind if I leave a small light on?" Rossi surprised him by asking.

"No. I mean, it's okay. Be my guest," he answered clumsily.

"Just in case anyone needs us—I hate tripping over crap in the middle of the night."

"Yeah," he answered, not really wanting to clarify his fear of the dark to Rossi.

He was glad that he hadn't let himself be talked into sleeping on the floor.

That woulda sucked, he thought decisively, trying to ignore the urge to snuggled into the warm body next to him.

Too bad we aren't sharing a sleeping bag, he mused to himself as he listened to the deep breaths coming from his teammate. I wonder if Rossi ever sleeps in the nude? I wonder what he would have done if I had done so tonight?

With those less than serious thoughts in his head, he eventually managed to slip into sleep.

. . .

Less than a few hours later, he suddenly found himself wide awake. Rossi was now much closer to him, practically pressed into his side, murmuring something in his ear as he slept on.

"Right there," the older man mumbled, throwing an arm over Reid's back.

Right there? What on earth is he dreaming about?

Then Rossi turned his body a little more and Reid was shocked to feel the man's erection poking into his hip!

"Rossi?" He whispered weakly, not entirely positive he wasn't still dreaming.

"God, Aaron," Rossi purred seductively in his ear.

He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing aloud. Was it possible that the man was dreaming about Hotch? Random scenarios began popping into his mind as his overactive imagination found something to run with.

"Please don't tease," Rossi whimpered and began grinding into his leg.

"Oh my God!" Reid snorted aloud at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Rossi let out a long breathy moan and Reid felt his eyes widen in the dark.

What if someone hears him? What if they think that we're—? He couldn't quite bring himself to finish the thought. What was the point of being implicated in something if you didn't get anything out of it?

What if he's faking it? Surely no one could sleep through something like this?

It was a weak hypothesis at best. He knew that people often did insane things in their sleep. There was no reason to think Rossi was actually awake.

But what if he is?

Oh, it was a tempting thought to contemplate. Maybe he should do an experiment. Well, he had a hypothesis, wasn't an experiment supposed to happen next?

He let out a soft nervous giggle. Could he do this?

Stop stalling!

Right. Timidly, he reached out his arm to lightly touch the top of the man's sweats.

"I'm touching you now Rossi," he told him very softly.

No response.

He swallowed and then continued the experiment. His long fingers slid neatly into the top of his pants, and after receiving no response, he pushed them in farther, down into the warm heat of his briefs. He could feel the man's cock moving back and forth in that tight little space, hard and wet with need.

"I'm really touching you now," he said again, speaking a little louder.

Still no response.

Feeling wild and dangerous, he bit his lip and wrapped his hand around his teammates cock, trying to stroke him as he continued to move against him.

"You feel so good, Dave," he said, using the man's name for the first time. "You sound like you really want this, like you really want me," he added, gaining confidence with his continued silence.

He rubbed his thumb across the top and Dave moaned again, even louder than before. He cringed at the sudden sound and without thinking he leaned forwards and caught the next moan with his mouth.

"Geez Dave, why can't you ever be like this when you're awake?" He whined softly in his throat. His own body was making its need rather apparent now, and it was getting harder to ignore.

No pun intended, he thought, stifling his groan into his pillow.

His mind firmly—God, enough with the stupid double entendres!—on his problem at hand—agh!—he didn't notice that Dave's body had stopped moving against him until he heard him speak.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rossi's voice was very low, very threatening, and he felt a wave of ice go through his body in response.

"I'm t-touching you?" He stuttered fearfully.

"Why?" Rossi's hand was around the front of shirt, and he wondered if the other man would bother telling anyone or just strangle him here and now. Alaska's a big place. It'd probably take a while to find my body. Hell, he could even blame it on the unsub, his brain pointed out at lightning speed.

Nothing to lose by telling the truth.

"You were humping my leg and calling out for Hotch," he answered bravely, all too aware that his hand hadn't been removed yet from around Rossi's still interested cock.

In the dim light of the room, he saw Rossi's eyebrows lift briefly at his words.

"And so you decided to jerk me off?" He could hear a hint of what he thought was amusement in the other man's voice.

"I couldn't tell if you were really asleep or not," he whispered back.

"What, you couldn't just wake me up by calling my name or punching me?" Rossi asked, shifting himself around to look him in the face more fully.

"Well, you know me," he answered softly. "Can't be normal, right?" He laughed nervously.

"Normal's pretty boring," Rossi agreed with a whisper, reaching out and touching the front of his pants.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" He asked, flinching backwards.

"You're a smart boy," was Rossi's growled answer, and suddenly Reid felt the man's hand move into his pants and wrap around his cock—which was starting to show some renewed interest. "You figure it out."

Rossi's hand began moving over him, stroking him slower and harder than he normally preferred, and after a glare, he started moving his hand once again too.

"This is surreal," he muttered, receiving a snort from the other man.

Soon though, even that thought was pushed out of his mind, leaving him with nothing but pleas for "more," and "oh my god, that's—ngh." It was hot, and it was hard, and it was sweet bliss leaking out around rough hands and questing fingertips.

And then there were only panting breaths echoing around a messy cleanup; both of which ultimately left him wondering how tomorrow would look in the morning.

"So you and Hotch?" He whispered sometime later.

"Want there to be a you and me ever again?"

"Could there be?" He was hopeful.

"Not if you ever bring up Hotch and me together again," was his growled response. "Got me?"

He did.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

Ten minutes later, he heard a very quiet knock at his door. He slipped out from under the covers and went over to investigate.

It was Prentiss. But why did she have her go bag?

"Hey," she said in a soft voice. "Can I come in?"

"S-Sure," he answered, looking at her curiously.

"Okay, I realize this is gonna sound weird," she started once the door was shut, "But can I room with you tonight?"

"Pardon?" He sat on the bed with a hard THUMP and stared back at her.

"Let me explain," she quickly said, hold her hands up to forestall any arguments he might have.

"Okay."

"I'm supposed to be sharing a room with J.J. But the bed in there, wow," she shook her head. "It's only about two-thirds the size of the one in here. And, I mean, as much as I like J.J., it's only a platonic kinda relationship, you know?"

"You wanna switch rooms?" He cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what was going on.

She grimaced. "Well, J.J. is probably already asleep. Besides, I really would prefer not to go back out there."

"What do you mean? The hallway?"

"Yeah," she answered slowly, looking extremely reluctant.

"What happened?" Now he really was intrigued.

"Well," she drew out the word slowly. "I didn't see them," she started shaking her head and gesturing with her hands. "J.J. did."

"See who? What? I don't understand."

"You know Rossi and Hotch are sharing a room, right?"

He shrugged. He didn't know, but it wasn't a surprise. There were only so many ways they could get paired up.

"And?" He prompted.

"J.J. saw them in the hallway . . ."

"So?"

"Reid, they were kissing."

"Oh." Oh. Oh!

"And they're sharing a room?" The implications of that statement were slowly beginning to dawn on him.

"Yeah," she said slowly, raising her eyebrows. "And I don't know about you, but I don't want any chance of running into them tonight, you know?"

"Uh, right."

Girls, he shook his head in confusion. Sometimes he thought he had them figured out; other times, not so much.

"So can I sleep here tonight?" She asked again, looking at him hopefully.

"Uh," he glanced back at the bed. "I—I guess." It's just Prentiss. It's not like she's going to hump me in my sleep.

Although that thought did have a certain allure.

After a little more conversation, they both got in the bed. He was next to the wall and he wondered if he should ask Prentiss to trade spots with him. What if he needed the bathroom? Crawling over her to get out of bed would likely end badly. He was clumsy enough as it was.

"Hey Reid?" She asked him after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?"

"What's it like having a penis?"

What?

He turned his head and looked at her, but she was staring steadily at the ceiling. She seemed serious enough, anyway.

"Uh. I dunno. What's it like having breasts?" He retorted.

"Annoying," she sighed. "They get in the way, and guys have a tendency to stare at them instead of your face."

"Duly noted," he quickly replied, before laughing a little.

"Ever feel like your dick is in the way?"

"Only when I'm horny."

Oh God, oh god! I just said that out loud!

She burst into laughter, before turning on her side to look at him.

"I can honestly say that I never thought I'd hear that word come out of your mouth, Spencer Reid."

The dim light of the room had made the shadows deepen around her face, making her look much more mysterious. He could honestly say that prior to that moment, he had never really thought about her as being alluring.

"Yeah, it's pretty hard to understand me with my foot wedged in there all the time," he said sarcastically.

She snorted, she literally snorted at him, making him laugh as well.

"Hey Reid."

"What now?" He asked, feeling unusually goofy.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Are you serious?"

"Come on," she cajoled. "Who on this team can actually say they've seen either of our bits?"

Our bits? He was started to feel lightheaded.

"You're not hiding a camera in there, are you?" He looked critically at her chest. "This isn't some kind of weird joke?"

"What can I say?" He thought he heard her shrug. "I get into weird moods sometimes."

"I'll say," he added quietly.

"Heard that."

"Heard what?" He asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Uh huh. Sure."

"Fine, I'll go first," she said, as though they had already agreed to do this. He watched in fascination as she gripped the bottom of her shirt, and then like a snake, she wriggled it off over her head.

And suddenly there were breasts—in his face.

"I feel like I'm staring," he said breathily.

"Oh, that would be because you are," she smiled.

So round, so perfect. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Her nipples had hardened in response to the cooler air around them, and he felt a strange desire to help warm them back up.

Like with my mouth, he added silently, still mesmerized by the sight of their beauty.

The feel of her hand against his made him start, but she shushed him gently, pulling his hand to her chest.

"Prentiss?" He whispered shakily.

"Emily," she corrected softly. "Right now my name is Emily."

Her flesh was so very soft to his hands. It almost was enough to distract him from the feel of her hands at the top of his pants.

"I still want to see you," she smiled kindly at him. He felt a shock of cold air as a fingertip made its way into the waistband of his shorts, and reflexively he shivered.

"You know, I have very sensitive nipples," she whispered, moving closer to him as she worked his pajamas and boxers off of his skinny narrow hips.

Oh. He looked down and saw that his thumb was lightly flicking back and forth over her right nipple. It seemed to be liking the attention, and as he looked down, he realized that Prent—that Emily's chest was flushed.

"Like what you see?" He asked in a choked voice after watching her stare at his groin in silence for several long moments.

"Did you know that your dick is larger than Morgan's?" Her voice was incredulous.

"How do you know that?" He squeaked.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," she answered with a laugh.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to know."

He watched in interest as she reached her hand out very slowly to his cock, which was slowly starting to perk up. A gasp escaped his lips as her hot fingers touched him, and he pushed his head into his pillow to stifle the sound.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" Her voice feather soft in his ear, as her breasts pressed against his side. He could feel her shimmying out her pants, and he could almost feel the processing speed of his brain slow as more blood was pumped into his still hardening cock.

"O-Once," he gasped, feeling her hands against his chest, hurriedly yanking his shirt over his head, and then those wonderful breasts were touching his skin, little nubs of hard flesh poking him as he struggled to catch up with what was happening around him.

"Was she pretty?" Lips on his neck, dual thumbs moving playfully over his nipples, pulling a small whimper from his throat, and he reached his other hand out, questing fingertips searching blindly for soft skin deceptively placed around strong muscles waiting to capture him.

"Not—Not as pretty as you," he whined in his throat as he felt her legs spreading, taking his remaining control from his body as they repositioned over him.

She smiled at him and stroked an elegant hand down his chest to his now beginning to strain cock.

"I'm clean. You?"

He nodded hurriedly, nearly positive that at any moment, she would simply laugh and tell him that she was just joking.

Any moment now.

The thought had barely made it around his mind twice before being forever corrupted by the indescribable feel of her hot wet tightness sliding itself carefully over him. He heard her sigh in pleasure, or maybe just relief, as she settled more completely over him.

"Emily."

Conveniently swinging breasts in his face, and he let himself take a hesitant taste, feeling her tighten around him in response. Soft, sweet in his mouth, he licked gently around them, reaching up with his hands and gripping her waist decisively, helping her to find a rhythm, helping her to find the best angle, the best sensation for both of them.

He could hear the bed squeaking slightly in his peripheral awareness, but it was a very small thing in comparison with the heat encompassing him. Her muscles flexed and stroked him, soft body working its way around him, putting itself on display for him to feast hungry eyes on.

Desperately, he kicked the remaining blankets off, sweaty limbs feeling suffocated in cotton confines, not unlike his dick often felt when he saw something he needed.

And mercy, she was strong! Coaxing his body, pulling gasps from his throat, giving him the attention he needed. Hands on his chest, hands tweaking her body, fingers in his hair, feeling his head pounding into the pillow behind him, hips working faster and faster, slamming him into the bed, ripping a groan from his lungs as the world blurred out around him.

Hot flesh, hot skin, sweat flowing between them, she was rubbing herself, still fucking him harder and harder.

"Emily!" She wrenched the cry from his throat, and he felt his body contort as he pushed up into her depths even further, emptying himself almost violently. She clenched hard around him, nearly painfully, and he looked up, seeing her eyes shut tightly, teeth clenched.

She was a vision of concentration, an image of success, of prosperity as they both rode out their resulting climaxes, wetness combined into a soupy hotbed of feeling, breath hammering loudly in their ears.

And then silence, tempered only by the sound of their heaving lungs and shuddering limbs.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

It was nearly a half hour later when he heard the hesitant knocking at his door.

Could it be Morgan? Apologizing?

Yeah, fucking right, he thought, feeling unusually bitter and angry. He had had thirty minutes to brood on his own, and the result was his current mood.

The knocking started again and he sighed to himself as he realized he would have to confront the person whether he liked it or not. Hell, for all he knew, it could be Hotch on the other side of that door, wanting to see if he was okay.

He crossed the room slowly, still hoping against hope that the person on the other side of the door would give up on talking to him and leave him to his misery.

"J.J.?" He asked in surprise after opening the door. "What are you doing here?"

And why are you already dressed for bed? Come to give me a pep talk before you go to sleep?

"Can I come in?" She asked, looking up into his face tiredly.

I'm not mad at J.J. I'm not mad at J.J., he tried to remind himself as he waved her inside.

"You can take a seat if you want," he said grumpily as he made his way back over to the bed.

With his back to her, he didn't see the hurt expression on her face, but he did hear the unhappiness in her voice with her next words.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she said, giving him a weak smile.

"Yup, good old Reid," he frowned and pushed himself across the bed to the wall. "I'm just like one of those stupid dolls that keep popping back up, no matter how much you smack them around."

"Spencer," she gave him a hard glare and he looked away. "You know that Derek didn't mean anything by what he said, right? He's just tired."

We all are, he wanted to shout back, but wisely decided to keep his mouth shut instead.

One side of him wanted to just ignore Morgan for the rest of the week, pretend he wasn't there at all, just like so many people had done to him when he was a kid. On the other hand, another part of him wanted to get behind him and push him off a cliff, but he knew better than to entertain that line of thought.

"Sure," he grunted after some silence.

"I mean, I'm not condoning his behavior or anything; I just don't think it's worth obsessing about."

No, instead you're just rationalizing it. And of course you wouldn't think so. You were probably the perfect popular princess in high school. I bet no one ever spat in your face or threw glass at you.

Abruptly, he felt a wave of guilt pass through him for his thoughts about J.J. He didn't know what her childhood had been like. She had always been kind to him, and this was how he was repaying her?

Really not knowing what to say now, he finally just shrugged and gave a sigh. "Yeah well, speaking of being tired . . ." he trailed off, trying to make her understand.

"You're not going to sit up and keep going over the conversation in your head, are you?" She asked with a small knowing smile.

"Me?" He raised his eyebrows and tried to look overly innocent.

"Yeah you, Mr. I Don't Forget Anything."

"I've forgotten stuff before."

"On purpose or by accident?" She asked with a smirk.

"Touché," he grimaced, scooting back from the wall to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. "You think Hotch notices when I do that?"

She laughed and he felt the corners of his mouth going up in a real smile. She had a nice sounding laugh.

"I think he only pays attention when it relates somehow to a case," she answered.

"Hotch?" He asked sarcastically.

They both laughed.

"Yeah, he's a little obsessive too," she added, gazing back at him more seriously. "You know, Spencer, you're worth more than you think."

"Sure," he said with a pained smile.

"I'm being honest with you," she said softly, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "I don't know what barriers in your past keep you from seeing it, but it's true. You are an asset to our team, and make a good friend to boot," she smiled at him.

He didn't have anything to say to that, and eventually she left him alone, but not before pressing her lips gently to his cheek and whispering good night.

. . .

He dreamed of J.J.

That wasn't altogether surprising. He had dreamt about various members of the team before, but it had never been anything more than work related.

But this one was different. She was in his bed, wrapped around him like a pair of tight fitting pants. It was fingers tangled together, and skin on skin in a heated maelstrom of groping tongues, sliding limbs and burning need.

She was perfect to gaze at. He could smell her flesh as it sweated next to his, and it was enticing to behold. The angle of the dream skipped around, pushing him into a dominating stance over her writhing body, and then dropping him right back down under her as she brought him to the edge over and over again.

Their bed felt like a trampoline under their bodies, shifting around them as they sought to touch lips to skin and tongues to nipples. It was wet, and it was rough, but it fulfilled him a way he had never thought possible.

Wakefulness slammed into him like a sharp smack to his head, the quiet of his sleep broken by a sudden barrage of knocks from an upset Aaron Hotchner coming to tell him that Penelope had found another victim.

He quickly changed his underwear, throwing on the nearest pair of jeans he could lay his hands on and then hastily pulled on his boots. Making his way downstairs, he saw a hysterical Penelope being helped to a chair by the ever stoic Derek Morgan. She didn't see him and Derek didn't bother to acknowledge him as he moved quickly past them.

The outside world that quietly greeted him was cold, dark and tense as they gathered around and discussed the body of a man who would never breathe again.

He could still feel the blood singing in his veins as he stood there bumping layered shoulders with his teammates. He could still remember the touch of his flesh against another's, despite the fact that a dead man lay at his feet, slowly cooling off from its final exertions.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

Penelope turned and glared meaningfully at the dark chocolate hunk of a man still standing behind her.

"Don't look at me like that Baby Girl," he said warningly, not even a hint of a smile on his face.

"Just shut up Derek Morgan! Did you see his face?" She squeaked angrily.

"He'll get over it," he answered with an uninterested shrug.

"Gah!" She exclaimed in a huff, throwing her arms up in defeat. "I guess this really does prove that you are more brawn than brains," she said, not waiting for his response before stomping angrily out of the room.

Minutes later, she hesitantly knocked on the only closed door in the hallway.

"Reid? Baby? This is Penelope," she called out softly when he didn't immediately answer her.

Silence.

She knocked a little more firmly and said, "Spencer Reid! You open this door now, or I'm gonna come in there and whup your skinny genius ass!"

Unsurprisingly, the door opened finally, revealing a dour looking Reid.

"If you've come to make fun of me, you can just leave now," he said quietly, opening the door and turning his back on her as he made his way back across the room.

"Spencer, you know I wouldn't do that to my favorite genius boy," she exclaimed, shutting the door hard behind her and walking right up into his face.

He barked a small bitter laugh. "Yeah well, I didn't think Morgan would renounce me in front of the group either, but look where we are now."

"That boy is a big chunk of bastard as far as I'm concerned!" She said, grabbing Spencer by the hand and pulling him over to sit next to her on the bed.

She looked at him in disapproval. His shoulders were rounded and he looked absolutely miserable.

"It's okay," he shrugged. "I'm pretty used to being ignored, forgotten, hurt, left behi—."

She didn't let him finish his sentence, but chose instead to cut him off by grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in close for an open mouthed, domineering kiss.

"Penelope!" He spluttered when she finally released him. "What in the world was that?"

"That was me ignoring you. You know, since everyone does, I thought I'd show you what it's like coming from me." With that comment, she pushed him easily over on his back and slid to the floor in front of him.

"Wh—What are you doing?" His voice wavered, his brown eyes large in his head.

"I'm making you feel better, so shut up," she said, undoing his belt buckle with a decisive snap of her fingers.

"We can't—you can't do this Penelope," he whispered in a frightened voice, his hands balling up on either side of him.

"Watch me!" She said, unbuttoning his pants and unzipping him quickly.

"What if someone walks in?" He squeaked.

"Then I'd say that they're about to get the show of their lives," she answered decisively, lifting his boxers up and over his partially interested dick.

"Oh my god, what if Hotch sees?" His head was back on the bed, his fingers knotted into the bedspread as she carefully moved his trousers and underwear down to his knees.

"Then he'll have something good to wank to, don't you think?" She asked softly, reaching her tongue out and lightly tracing it over the tip of his dick.

He flinched, and now she could hear him panting as she moved it back and forth across his slit.

"I can't—I can't believe you just said 'wank' and 'Hotch' in the same sentence," he gasped out.

"He's a man, Spence. All men wank at some point in their lives. And with the stress of his job? I'd say he wanks about as often as you refill your coffee mug."

She didn't give him a chance to process that before opening up and sliding her mouth carefully onto him, her bright lipstick covered lips stretching to cover her teeth, as her tongue wrote out a pattern of swirls and lines along the underside of him.

He bucked up, wheezing deep in his throat and shoved his fist in his mouth to keep from shouting aloud.

"Oh my god Penelope," he moaned softly.

She hummed appreciatively around the gift in her mouth, taking him a little deeper, hollowing her cheeks a bit as she increased the suction. He was making little whimpering sounds that made her smile, even as she reached into her slacks and began rubbing lightly on her own pink bits.

Things were awfully wet in her mouth and she moved up a little farther to keep from drooling, and then pulled back again just to judge his response. From what she could see of his body, his cheeks weren't the only part of him that was flushed and sweating, his inner thighs were trembling and she could see his abdomen flexing in front of her.

She ran her tongue back and forth, up around the sides as far as she could reach and then down again. Her head was bobbing up and down on his dick, and she could hear his breath beginning to quicken. He was young and if she were to make a wager, she'd say that he hadn't been graced with that many blowjobs in his life.

Certainly not from her talented lips.

She caressed his balls with a hand; lightly dragging her nail over one and hearing him try to squeal out around his fist. She did it again, but this time she went down on him further, swallowing him down with a slippery little gulp and tightening her throat muscles around his drippy needy head.

"Oh god oh god oh god!" She could hear him crying out as he jerked up one final time, before abruptly exploding into his climax, his cum hitting her hard in the throat. She moved off of him slightly in order to keep from choking, but otherwise didn't let go of him until he was done, and laid out in a boneless heap before her.

Then she pulled off delicately, noting with some glee that she had left traces of lipstick around his now soft shaft, and carefully pulled his clothing back up around him. She wiped her mouth with a handy tye-dyed handkerchief and then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Derek Morgan may be sleeping in my room, but he is not sharing my bed, and he is not going to be feeling my mouth anywhere on his sucky arse body."

Spencer just nodded at her, a completely dazed expression on his face.

"TTFN!*" She said, waving brightly and then skipping out of his room.

. . . . .

TTFN – Ta Ta For Now

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

"Reid?" Morgan knocked softly on his door more than an hour later.

"Oh. It's you," was Spencer's noncommittal answer when he finally opened the door.

"Hey man, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said carefully, following Reid back into his room, leaving the door open behind him.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" Spencer asked in a tone of voice that said exactly the opposite.

"I realize that I might have come across a little harsh—. What are you doing, man?"

Spencer looked up from where he was methodically undressing himself and Morgan watched the ghost of a smile flit across his face.

"I'm getting ready for bed," the bare chested Reid told him nonchalantly, his hands already working on the fastenings of his slacks.

"Uh dude, the door—," Morgan tried to say, but found himself mesmerized as the normally shy and retiring Dr. Reid suddenly dropped his slacks to the floor in front of him and the open door.

"Want me to leave? I—," he tried to take a step backwards, but seeing Reid's thumbs dipping down into the elastic band of his shorts stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't really care," Spencer shrugged, sliding his shorts down just a bit, letting pale and thin hips appear in the light.

Derek licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to act like he wasn't staring.

"What's wrong Derek?" The damnable boy asked, sliding a long fingered hand inside his shorts and slowly stroking himself. "I thought you weren't interested in anything to do with me," he added, walking forwards slowly until their chests were nearly touching.

"I—," he tried again, quickly discovering that his brain didn't seem to be capable of forming sentences any longer.

"What's that, Derek? It's a little hard to hear you."

There was a slim hand trailing down his chest, fingers lightly touching his nipples through his shirt and then there was a distinct weight at the top of his jeans.

"Just think, all of this and more. But oh wait, you don't want to sleep with me . . . in my room," Spencer's voice was little more than a whisper across his superheated senses.

"That's not—," he tried.

He felt those same fingers moving again, attaching themselves to his hands, pulling them forwards until he was touching those slim hips himself. Reid swiped his tongue slowly over his ear, making him shudder.

"Reid, anyone—anyone could walk by," he managed to grind out.

"Then I'd say you better make your apology fast," was Spencer's own breathless reply. Abruptly, he could feel weight on his shoulders, pushing him to the floor, positioning his head directly in front of a particularly tented garment.

He was on his knees in front of Spencer, reaching into the other man's clothing. His first touch to heated flesh made them both flinch, and then he regained his nerve and finally managed to pull Reid's cock out into the light. It was flushed red, and he could see wetness gleaming at the tip.

"Take it, Derek," Reid growled from above him, his apathetic tone finally giving away to anger.

He did and he slid his mouth over it slowly, carefully, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he thought about how much trouble they'd be in if anyone saw them. God, Hotch could be standing right behind him and he'd never know. He could feel sweat gathering at the small of his back and on his forehead and he tried to refocus himself on the task at hand, hoping to bring the boy off sooner than later.

"You like that, don't you, Derek. You like sucking me off; you like being on your knees in front of me, wondering what I might do next," Reid growled to him softly, a long fingered hand curling itself painfully around his ear.

He sucked the boy deep into his mouth, pulling off briefly before repeating himself, the pain on his ear combining with the fear of their exhibitionist act making it hard to breathe, hard to think—making him hard in general. He groaned out around Spencer's cock and felt an answering pain in the side of his head as Reid jerked on his ear, pulling him up and down faster as the other man's need increased.

"Apologize to me, Derek Morgan," Reid growled out, the grip on his ear nearly hard enough to break the skin. He could feel the back of his throat beginning to be pummeled by the cock in his mouth, and he tried not to gag, tried not to react to the feel of the hard floor digging in around his kneecaps.

He could feel himself drooling, the punishing speed of the blowjob on Spencer's cock taking on a new speed, a new roughness, and suddenly he found himself swallowing around that same length. He could feel his body trying to take in oxygen, and imagined his throat opening and closing around the head of Spencer's cock. The body in front of him was shaking, and he heard a gasping moan above him, just as he was pulled in that much further against his groin.

Reid's climax hit them both forcefully, and he swallowed as fast as he could, knowing that if he didn't get oxygen soon, he would pass out.

Then suddenly, his mouth was being pulled off for good and he felt himself gasping out his own breath of relief, his shoulders hunched as he barely managed to keep from falling to the floor.

"Oh, hi Hotch," he heard Spencer say calmly from above him, bringing him to his senses with a sharp figurative slap to the head. He whirled and gasped again as he found himself looking up at their stern faced boss.

"Hotch," he wheezed out, his throat hoarse from the pounding it had just taken. "I—," he tried to say, instinctively knowing that nothing he said would make this better.

"I'm going to shut this door now," Hotch said slowly in a very deep voice, his eyes shining briefly with what looked like amusement, and then they were alone.

Finally.

"Did he—?" Morgan was slightly dumbfounded at the other man's calm reaction.

"Yes," Reid answered with a lighthearted tilt in his voice that definitely had not been there before.

"What happens now?" He asked softly, managing to get to his feet, despite the shaking of his limbs.

"Now?" Spencer looked at him with a devilish grin. "Now you sleep with me. Unless you'd like to complain some more?"

"No," he said quickly. "I'm good."

"Good," Spencer answered brightly, banishing any lingering thoughts of Hotch with a mind searing kiss.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

"Gideon?" Reid squawked in disbelief as he answered the knock on his room's door.

"Reid?" The older man answered in surprise. For a moment they just stared at each other, and then Gideon broke the standstill by striding forwards and embracing the younger man tightly in his arms.

Reid barely noticed the door shutting behind them, his senses far too enmeshed in the strong chest he was being held against, as he reveled in the scent that had once more surrounded him.

"What are you doing here?" He asked excitedly, a touch of anxiety flitting briefly across his mind at the strange appearance of his once most highly vaulted mentor.

"Camping, believe it or not!" Was the boisterous response that was given. "But in lieu of the curfew, I thought it might be better to head inside tonight."

"Wow, but the place is full here tonight," Reid bit his lip and looked over at his former mentor questioningly. "Maybe you can sleep on the couch downstairs?"

"I could," Gideon pausing, glancing around the room, "but I'd rather stay in a room. Safer."

"Well, maybe you should talk to Hotc—," Reid started to say, only to be hushed gently.

"I'd . . . really rather not," Gideon answered uncomfortably. "Maybe I could stay here tonight? It's not like we've never shared rooms before!" He said, flashing a smile at him.

"You mean, like on the fl-floor?"

"I mean, on the bed, Spencer," Gideon said, stepping closer to him.

"On the b-bed? I could sleep on the floor if you like," Reid said, taking a step backwards and feeling the edge of the bed bump the backs of his knees.

"I'd rather you sleep on the bed too. You might get cold down there," Gideon said quietly, moving towards him until their chests were touching lightly.

Reid remembered a time when Gideon had been much more than a father figure. He remembered a time when Gideon used to hold him at night and kiss away his nightmares, his hands caressing every bit of his exposed flesh, large thumbs dipping into every crevice, every dark hidden spot.

It had taken a lot for Reid to get past the time that Gideon had been so fully in his life, but he had finally managed it, and until that evening, had considered himself a better man for it.

"Reid," Gideon whispered, laying large hands on his much thinner shoulders. "Spencer."

He swallowed at the sound of his name coming from the other man's lips. Abruptly, he remembered their last kiss; a bittersweet ending to everything that had happened between them. He had cried at the time, and although he hated to admit it—even to himself—he had also begged the other man not to leave him.

Pink laced his cheeks as he fully recalled the kinds of begging he had done and he had to look away in embarrassment.

"Spencer," it was whispered this time and he felt something inside his heart flinch hard.

"You left me," was his cold answer.

"I left the team. I left the FBI, the BAU."

"You left me, Jason Gideon," Reid answered harshly, pulling his body away from Gideon's suffocating hold. "It was too much for you. I was too much for you. I couldn't see it at the time, but I'm not the same stupid kid I was then."

"You were never some stupid kid, Spencer," Gideon cajoled. "You were much more to me."

"Why do you think that you could just show up and I'd immediately want you again? This isn't some kind of game!" He turned his back on Gideon and stalked over to the door. Immediately, his gut told him to turn back around, that he had made a mistake.

Gideon's hand came up over his mouth and his arm went around his middle, throwing him roughly to the bed.

"Now, you will listen to me, Spencer," Gideon panted from where he sat straddling Reid's abdomen, effectively pinning him to the mattress with his much more substantial body weight.

Perhaps more important than his feeling of entrapment was the hard length Reid could feel pressed against his stomach. It was that, more than his discomfort that made him afraid. Gideon had missed him.

Gideon still wanted him.

"You were a confused young agent. You didn't know what you wanted, and frankly, neither did I. But we figured it out together, didn't we? The first time I touched you," Reid felt it as Gideon's hips drove forwards slightly, and he swallowed against the implications. "The first time I touched you, I knew that we needed to be together, don't you understand?"

"Mppgh," Reid tried to say through the hand still covering his mouth.

Gideon gave him a calculating look and then opened his mouth. "Will you promise not to scream?"

Reid nodded vigorously and Gideon released him. He then took a satisfyingly deep breath through his mouth, feeling the oxygen reinvigorate his body as he did.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Gideon admitted in a soft voice, moving his face right over Reid's own, leaving less than a hand's width between their lips.

"I know," he whispered, feeling choked as he looked up. On some level, he did know that.

"Everything just got to be too much," Gideon continued, leaning in until their lips were touching. Reid could feel his much larger hand trailing down the side of his chest, fingers touching the top of his pajama pants and then moving down even lower.

He swallowed his protests for the other man's actions and let himself enjoy the feel of those gentle questing touches, arching up into Gideon's hand as he knew he was expected to.

His mentor's lips were hot and wet against his own dry ones, the man's tongue echoing the movements of his hand, surrounding his own tongue like a snake swallowing its prey. Gideon's hand milked him roughly, hurting him a bit with its hard jerking, making him whimper into the other's mouth.

He felt the man's smile against his face, his larger body grinding raggedly against his hips, moving lower until he could feel Gideon's clothed cock rubbing itself determinedly in the space between his own pajama covered thighs.

"Missed this," Gideon panted out, releasing his lips and allowing him to turn his head to the side, only to feel his warm breath pushing its way into his ear, making him shiver.

Gideon's hand was moving faster, his body sliding itself back and forth against his own, desperate to find the necessary friction even if it rubbed them both raw in the process. He felt himself arching up again, bending his back past the point of comfort, mixing his physical pain with the heartbreaking level of angry sadness that was screaming within his head.

Gideon bent down and sucked on his neck ferociously, reminding him of every unsub that had ever had vampire-like tendencies. He could feel the wet heat pool against his throat, could feel his flesh being sucked into that hot cavern, could feel the mark that was being made, and the pain that was being extracted.

A fingernail scraped across his cock head and he wheezed out a breathy scream, body pulling and groin pushing into that extra sensation, making him feel as though he was being torn in two from the middle outwards.

"That's my Spencer, there's my boy, that's the way," distantly he could hear Gideon's voice chanting in his ear, and he remembered how desperate he had once been to please him, to give him everything he had asked of him.

Now all he could think of was his overwhelming need to cum, to ejaculate, to make this current torment end and for him to be allowed to pretend it had never happened again. He needed it to be over.

That fingernail scraped again, almost as though Gideon had been somehow listening to him, and then the man's knees were squeezing his thighs together tightly, squeezing both of their cocks with an unearthly amount of pressure, carefully controlling both their ascents into euphoria.

And then he was cumming, exploding up over the other man's fist like a volcano as Gideon pushed hard against his body one more time, dropping his weight down over him with a sweaty THUMP of limbs and breathy exhalations.

He knew that Gideon could feel the trembling of his body under his own much more substantial weight, and therefore wasn't surprised to feel their positions switch a moment later. Gideon gathered him up like a father might do to a child after a bad dream and pressed him against his chest lovingly, whispering soft words in his ear that he forced himself to tune out.

It would be bad enough to have this memory lodged in his mind forever. He didn't need the added burden of hearing Gideon's so-called loving attempts at comfort as well.

Chapter Text

Alaska.

"Man, I am not rooming with Reid," Morgan said defiantly, purposely ignoring the chorus of silent glares from the rest of the team.

Reid sighed. It was just like riding the bus all over again. Ew, I don't want to sit with him! The only thing worse than finding seatmates on the bus was when they had to pick sides for teams. In his opinion, the entire system was barbaric, but that was a rant for another day.

He went up the stairs slowly. If he was going to be cast off to sleep by himself, he might as well get first dibs on a room.

. . .

Reid dreamed of Elle. He had never been attracted to her physically, but she had always intrigued him. And now his subconscious seemed intent on exploiting that vague interest.

She slipped into his bed silently, her eyes uncomfortably focused on his own, making him shiver at the unexpected level of attention.

"Have you ever needed to be with someone so badly your body ached?" She asked, sliding her lithe body closer to his as she spoke, eyes never leaving his face.

He had, but he didn't think she'd be interested in his answer.

He felt her hand grasp his hip, movements direct and forceful, and he whimpered a bit in his throat as she drew him closer to her body.

"I need you," she told him a throaty voice, eyes burning darkly at him; her hands pushing into his boxers quite against his will.

He couldn't move, couldn't speak. Maybe it was his shock at her words, or the fact that she was now touching him, trying to get him to react, to move, to respond, but whatever the reason, it didn't seem to matter, as she seemed capable of continuing on without his consent.

He could feel her fingernails scraping against his inner thighs, the feel of it pooling deep in his groin as his body wanted to react and his mouth tried to scream its protest.

"Stop," he wheezed helplessly, pushing unusually weak arms at her overwhelming strength.

"You'll like this Spencer," she snapped at him, slapping his hands away and moving her body on top of his. "So shut up and enjoy the ride!"

And he could feel his cock being pushed inside her, the pleasure mixing wretchedly with his terror at not being able to stop it, and he screamed aloud.

"Reid!" He heard distantly, warm arms wrapping themselves around him, even as he cried out again for her stop.

"I don't want to! Please," he cried, turning his head away, not wanting to watch as Elle raped him.

"Spencer, wake up," a deep voice was breaking through his dream, and he didn't care who his rescuer was, he just wanted to be away from her. Blindly, he threw himself forwards into an equally warm chest, his hands scrabbling desperately for purchase from the horror of his nightmare.

He finally managed to pry his eyes open, only to discover himself fully in the embrace of his superior, and he didn't care, couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed as he clung tighter and sobbed into the man's strong chest.

"Hush, Spencer. It was just a dream," Hotch's voice dripped soothingly over his frazzled nerves and he let himself take in a harsh hitching breath.

"I can't go back to sleep, I can't—she'll get me again and I can't—," he babbled against Hotch's shoulder, terrified that he would be left alone now that he was awake.

"Breathe Spencer," Hotch intoned in a deep voice against his much thinner chest and he managed to close his mouth and refocus on finding his air. Hotch was holding a hand against the back of his head, and an arm around his shoulders, and although he couldn't see the man's face, he could imagine the look of quiet concern that continued to permeate his otherwise stoic features.

"Don't leave me yet, please," he whispered out, feeling guilt over his obvious insecurity, but his overwhelming fear not letting him keep his silence any longer.

"Spencer—," Hotch started to say.

"Please," he begged, pressing his face into the other man's neck and closing his eyes tightly against hearing his imagined refusal.

"Here," Hotch answered instead, moving them to the edge of the bed and standing up. He was holding up most of Spencer's weight as well, as his shaking legs didn't seem capable of working.

Oh gods, he could still feel Elle's fingers on him and he moaned out loud at the ugly sensation.

"Spencer, I'm not leaving you," Hotch answered calmly, arms still around him. "Come back to my room and we'll talk about this until you feel you can sleep again."

The words were more order than request, but Spencer didn't care; at this point, he'd willingly do anything to keep from being left alone.

"Okay," he whispered.

Hotch led him blindly out into the hallway and then into the room just adjacent to his.

So that's how he was able to hear me, Reid mused silently as he made his way across the threshold. Hotch shut the door quietly behind them with his foot, not letting go of Reid the entire time.

The older man sat them lightly on the edge of the bed and then propped him up against the headboard in the middle of the bed. There was warm yellow light filtering in around his partially shut eyes and he blinked a little at the brightness.

"Hey kid," Rossi greeted him from the right side of the bed, his voice sounding unusually rough. "Bad night?"

Reid flinched back against Hotch and instinctively pulled his knees up to his chest. He couldn't believe it. It was after one in the morning, and he was sitting in the middle of a bed, limbs still trembling from the nightmare, with Hotch on his left and Rossi on his right.

He waited for some kind of cutting remark to issue from the other profiler's mouth, but the man was silent, looking appraisingly at him while he continued to press himself against Hotch's side.

"I'm s-sorry I woke you up," he whispered, dropping his eyes to the bedspread, and missing the glance that the other two exchanged over his head.

"Don't you know that profilers never sleep?" That was Rossi, sounding friendly even though he had interrupted their sleep and invaded their bed.

"Who was the dream about, Spencer?" Hotch asked him, arm moving back around his shoulders and pulling him into more of a sitting position.

He turned large frightened eyes up at his boss and silently begged him to withdraw the question. He didn't want to be sent away, but he also didn't want to answer that question.

"What was the dream about then, kid?" Rossi asked, moving closer to him and placing a strong warm arm around his shoulders, overlapping Hotch's.

He glanced back at Rossi and saw only a concerned expression that matched the one on Hotch's face.

"She—a woman—came into my b-bed," he whispered shamefully. He was sure that if Morgan were there, he would have been cheering him on and wondering why that could have possibly been grounds for a nightmare.

He was glad Morgan wasn't there.

"And she t-told me that she wanted me," he added after feeling a squeeze on his shoulder. "And she wouldn't take n-no for an answer." His breath caught in his throat and he let out a low sob.

"Who was the woman?" Hotch asked him, dark eyes gazing at him in concern.

"Elle," he said, his voice barely audible.

"She didn't ever hurt you like that, did she?" Hotch's eyes were blazing now and he found himself pushing more firmly into Rossi's side, surprisingly enough.

"Aaron," Rossi warned, but he was already shaking his head in the negative.

"No, she didn't," he paused and thought, "but sometimes she scared me," he admitted.

The frightening look was gone from Hotch's eyes, but that didn't mean he could relax anymore than he already was.

"Reid—Spencer," Hotch said softly, calling his attention back with an odd feeling. "Do you prefer men or women?"

Complete and utter silence reigned after that question, and he didn't know whether he should laugh or choke.

"Wh-Which do you prefer?" He asked instead, feeling that it was a safe question to ask, since Hotch would most likely answer 'women,' considering his marriage to Haley.

"Men," Hotch answered instead, his voice serious as ever with his admission. "Dave, which do you prefer?"

Reid turned back around to look at the older man, his mouth still hanging slightly open in shock from Hotch's answer.

"Men," answered Rossi, completely flooring him.

"You see, Spencer, you're not alone," Hotch told him in a quiet voice, directing his attention back to his face.

"But how—I never said, I mean—I didn't—," he spluttered, looking back and forth between the men around him in confusion.

"We've been wondering for a while about you," Hotch admitted softly, leaning in closer to him, making his mouth go dry and pushing his nightmare far from his mind.

"But I—I, but why?"

Hotch didn't seem to be intent on answering him—at least not in words. Instead, Spencer quite suddenly felt warm, slightly chapped lips descend on his, stopping his thoughts completely as they wrestled control from him. He felt the tip of a questing tongue touch his mouth and he opened his jaw just enough to let it in.

That's when it hit him; Hotch was the one kissing him. He moaned at the realization and the mouth lifted away from his own, letting him gaze back at Hotch in wonder at the man's daring.

"If you don't want to do this, just say so. We don't ha—," Spencer cut Hotch off with another kiss. Behind them he heard Rossi chuckling and only had a moment to spare on that thought before feeling another mouth attach itself to his neck.

There were two sets of hands on his clothes and on him, and he let them undress him; attacking their shirts and pants with just as much fervor and then more, when he realized that they were letting him.

Hot skin and hard muscles slid under fingertips, reaching and exploring, memorizing and mapping as two mouths continued to devour him, traveling over his lips and neck and nipples, reducing him to quiet whimpers of need and want. He could smell them; Rossi's aftershave just a hint stronger than the clean smell that seemed to exist within Hotch's skin and clothes; the sweat on their bodies making the slide of their limbs easier to manipulate, driving him near madness with the feel of them everywhere around him, but not in him.

Apparently his face spoke volumes, because finally Hotch spoke again, drawing his thinking mind back online with his question. "Reid, have you ever had sex with a man before?"

"Or men?" Rossi muttered somewhere below his right nipple, experienced fingers playing some kind of classical performance on his balls and the soft flesh of his inner thighs.

His hand was buried in Rossi's thick head of hair, pulling gently against his scalp, fingers playing with a plump earlobe; his other arm trapped somewhere under Hotch's leg, being tickled by curly dark hair; his hand trying to make the otherwise stoic man lose his fabled control with the damning touches he was using on the weeping tip of his hard cock.

"A few—," he moaned as he felt Dave's mouth lightly suck one of his balls into the man's hot damp oral cavity. "A few times," he panted out harshly, eyes trying to roll back in his head as he heard the soft pop that came as Rossi released one ball and delicately took the other.

"So, not a virgin," Hotch growled above him into his ear.

"No, no sir," he shook his head, squeaking as he felt Rossi's tongue move back towards his ass. His eyes were squeezed tightly and he was barely cognizant that Hotch was changing positions, moving his larger body under his own with ease.

Rossi's tongue stabbed his hole and he squeaked again, his muscles pulling and moving around that tiny hot and wet appendage. It was so good, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough and he felt Hotch's arm move around his mouth as his complaints got louder. He was sobbing into the crook of the other man's elbow by the time Rossi's tongue was replaced by a slick finger. Hotch's feet were on the bed, his legs bent at the knees, holding his thighs apart just enough for him to feel the burn, but not enough to really hurt.

One arm still at his face, something for him to cry into, the other wrapped around his mid-section, hand splayed against his abdomen, fingertips curling themselves lightly around his cock.

Two fingers working inside his body, stretching him carefully, feeling Rossi's hand stroke his ass, Hotch's hard generous cock making itself known against the base of his spine, and he whimpered again, needing to be fucked, needing to taken, needing to be used by these two men who cared so much for him.

He was barely aware of the tears that had begun making their way down his cheeks by the time Rossi had added a third finger, if not for the sight of Hotch's concerned face blinking in his peripheral.

"No, doesn't hurt, but I need," he panted, whimpering in a high voice, fingers tensing on the strong flexing thighs holding him open.

He heard Hotch hiss out something above him, hot chest heaving steadily under his back, and then the fingers were gone and he felt a hot slick cock pushing its way into his innards instead.

Finally! Was his only thought, his mouth open in half pleasure, half pain, Hotch's fingertips bruising his hips as he slowly inserted himself into Spencer's needy depths.

"Spencer," was growled into his ear and he let himself give voice to a whine as he felt Hotch's balls come in contact with his ass, knowing he was in as far as he could be, as far as he could go.

Dave's hot hand was now around his cock, holding tight to its base, as Hotch slowly started withdrawing, lifting his body and then pushing back in ever so faster. Reid could feel Hotch's muscles flexing as he lifted him, using his ass to fuck himself into, and he marveled at his boss's pure strength.

Two more thrusts and then a slight change in angle as Hotch pulled himself farther upright under his body, and suddenly the arm was back in front of his face, dampening the sound as he howled. Bright lights were flashing in his eyes and he thought he saw a smile pass across Rossi's face.

"I think he found something that time, kid," the older man said; his smile turning more feral as he watched the fucking continue on in front of him; his hand working his own cock slowly.

The burn in his ass was giving way to something easier and as it did, the speed that Hotch was moving at suddenly became much too slow.

"Fuck me please, Hotch," he gasped out, sweat blinding him as it poured into his eyes; his back easily sliding up and down the other man's nearly hairless chest, their perspiration working like the lube in his ass.

But he didn't speed up and the pressure on the base of his cock didn't either. Soon he was nearly writhing again not even aware that there was another slicked finger pushing its way carefully into his ass.

"Relax Spencer," was the harshly growled command in his ear, and he started to ask why, when he felt the entrance of another slick finger pushing inside too. A cock and two fingers and he couldn't think, his panting the only sound he seemed capable of making, and he felt Hotch's lips sucking on his neck and heard a groan issued from somewhere down by his balls.

"Won't let you get hurt," Hotch was still talking, his cock all but completely still he felt himself be stretched obscenely wide around a third finger. He whimpered again, not sure if he could do this and felt a gentle touch down the side of his face.

"We'll take care of you," was the last thing he heard before feeling the removal of those skilled fingers and the blunt announcement of a second cock pushing its way in at a maddeningly slow pace.

Rossi's cock was shorter, but slightly thicker and he found himself ridiculously grateful for all of the nights that he had fucked himself with one of his larger dildos at home.

Hotch was under him still, his cock at the back of his opening, and he imagined how it would feel to have Rossi's dick pushing up against it. Rossi was the only one moving now, pushing and pulling himself ever so slightly in and out of his body, making Hotch moan with a deep guttural sound from below him.

And Spencer? He was barely there, barely aware of the two cocks now both sliding back and forth inside his body, his body quite nearly thrumming with pleasure, his eyes rather glazed over. His head was leaned against Hotch's shoulder, and his mouth open, his throat letting out an almost unending string of unintelligible sounds and whimpers.

Then suddenly the pressure from around the base of his cock was gone. It only took two more friction slick slides in and out before white light took over his senses once more, and he was spurting up in-between the two men's bodies; ass clenching down hard around them as he came.

Their movements inside him picked up now, and a rhythm was established. In went Hotch's cock, in went Rossi's, sliding against Hotch's as he pulled out slightly and pushing against Rossi's as he pulled out while Hotch pushed back in.

They set a brutal pace, making him take it. He could feel Hotch's muscles straining and Rossi's hand was in his hair, pulling him closer, fingers sliding down to hold his neck. The other man's chest rippled under his own as he took them, as they strove to reach their own climaxes. Hotch's legs were pushing his thighs into a stretch that would have hurt if he had been more conscious to notice.

Then abruptly, Hotch slammed in one last time, grunting as he came hard in his ass, and only moments later, Rossi was doing the same, attacking his mouth fiercely as he wrenched a breathless kiss from Spencer.

They were all three breathing hard after Rossi released his mouth and started the slow process of disengaging from him. Hotch did the same after he was free and gently laid Spencer down beside him, Rossi coming up next to them not long after, on his other side.

Out of nowhere then, perhaps some time had passed without his noticing, because suddenly Hotch had a warm washcloth and was cleaning them up, a tired but sated look on his face as he did so.

He felt empty and wide open without them in him. Perhaps sensing that, they curled up around his body tighter than before, pulling up a blanket around their shoulders and tucking it in around him as well.

"Are you okay kid?" Rossi asked from behind him, soft cock touching the back of his thighs from where he was spooning up behind him.

He didn't have any words, but managed to nod wordlessly up against Hotch's chest, where his head was currently pillowed.

Minutes later, he was fast asleep.