I Want What You Have
Title: I Want What You Have
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Prompt: Abuse for hc_bingo
Medium: fic
Wordcount: 601
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-graphic mentions of past sexual abuse
Summary: Morgan hates that Buford sometimes enters their bedroom. Morgan/Reid
“It’s been over two decades since Buford touched me; it shouldn’t be like this,” Morgan says; he’s sitting on the side of the bed, his head bent and penis completely limp against his thigh.
“There’s no standard time frame for overcoming abuse,” Reid comments as he pulls on his robe and sits next to Morgan on the bed.
They sit there for a few moments, not touching just decompressing.
“Me penetrating you,” Reid says and Morgan snorts lightly as his lip turns up in a quick smile, “doesn’t have to be a part of our relationship.” Reid’s voice is soft and his words are gentle, “I’m happy with the way things are.”
“But I’m not.”
“Derek.”
“I’m not; how it feels when I slide into you and the way you look at me when I make love to you, I want those things for you, Pretty Boy, I want you to feel and see the things I do and I want to feel and see the things you do.”
“But right now, Derek, all I see is the man I love,” he stutters a little on the word; he has not voiced it and he promised himself he wouldn’t let it be uttered in a sexual situation. But he guesses this doesn’t count as even remotely sexual even though Derek’s naked and he’s one robe away from it. He looks at his lover quickly and Derek’s eyes are shining, and he continues a little more shakily, “I see the man I love in terrible pain and I never want to see that; I never want to see that panic in your eyes, especially not when I’m the cause.”
“You’re not the cause.”
“Derek, I don’t want to trigger you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Sexual assault victims,” he never says rape; rape just shuts Morgan down, “are six times more likely to have post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s not wrong; it’s not your fault.”
“And it sure as hell isn’t yours either.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean it feels like it isn’t.”
Morgan nods slightly, runs his hand over his head, and drops them back quickly to his knees before reaching for Reid’s hand. It’s his sign that he’s now willing for more physical comfort that he can handle more than just words. Reid has learned a lot about Morgan in the year they’ve been together intimately. Like crossed arms don’t mean he’s closed off, but he’s listening; conversely, hands on hips means he’s done listening to whatever it is you have to say. And the half-grin that crinkles the left side of his face means he’s more than just playful, he’s horny. Reid weaves their fingers together, moves closer, and let’s go of Morgan’s hand to place it on the back of the older man’s neck, cradling Morgan’s skull in his hand. He uses his other hand to pull his lover’s shoulder bodily against his chest. Morgan exhales a gentle chuckle but doesn’t move to pull away.
“I want to keep trying,” Morgan says almost brokenly.
“I know,” Reid says, kissing the top of his head.
“You’ll stick with me, Pretty Boy?”
“How’s that saying go, through thick and thin.”
“Yep,” Morgan snickers, after a long pause where Reid traces words on Morgan’s back, “You said you love me.”
“I did, I do, I do love you,” he says, his words jumble, tumble, and fall awkwardly before he takes a deep breath and says simply, “I love you, Derek.”
“I love you, too, Spencer,” Derek says, tilting his head up to look at him, “And maybe that will make all the difference.”