CM Fic: "Garrulous"
Disclaimers: No member of the Criminal Minds team belongs to me, they belong to Bernero, Gordon, et al.
Rating: NC-17/FRAO (Pornz ahoy)
Genre: Het/Threesome/slight bondage
Spoilers: None
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss/Rossi
Note: Written for Porn Battle XI: Eleven Days of Porn, for the prompts "tradeoffs" and "handcuffs."
Summary:
It starts, as many things do, because David Rossi has a big mouth.
(In the figurative sense at least; though the feedback he receives usually suggests a general happiness with the literal sense.)
And technically, it didn't *start* this time. Hell, it started long enough ago, these idylls in hotel rooms, that Dave's not even sure of the date. Of the evening, after a win or a loss or a win that felt like a loss.
The evening when him and Hotch stretched out on a scratchy hotel room double bed, talking, became him and Hotch and Emily stretched out on a double bed, talking. And the later evening. When things became a little bit more complicated, but a lot more fun.
That's when it started, and Dave's almost afraid to write down a date for it, just in case that makes it end.
It's half talking anyway, even though the sex part is fantastic. And, as with everything else in his life, it's the talking part that gets him in trouble.
A crappy b-movie on basic cable. 3 profilers, unable to turn off their brains. And David Rossi, on the subject of voyeurism: "I think it'd be fun to just watch sometime. At the very least, you guys would be entertaining."
Silence. He feels two dark-eyed glares on him in tandem, and Emily, controller of the remote, whacks him on the thigh with it.
"We'd be a hell of lot more then entertaining, jackass. We'd be the best you'd ever seen."
She smiles half-way through this, affectionate, giving herself away. And then Aaron leans over. Whispers in her ear, at length, then looks at Dave, still saying nothing. But Dave knows that look; that glint in Aaron's eye always means something entirely unpredictable.
Emily starts to grin. "I think that's an absolutely fantastic idea. If you'd go find the equipment?" Hotch obliges; Emily suddenly flips on top of Dave. The imperious sight of her gets him half-hard right there.
"We've agreed; you can watch. But there's a tradeoff."
Dave puts on his best shit-eating grin.
"Name it."
Instead, Emily motions over to Hotch, who is now holding a) his red silk tie and b) one of their pairs of handcuffs. Dave's heart starts to race, his breath quickens. Now, Emily speaks.
"No moving. No talking, not even a sound. And the pants stay on." The fire he loves so much, flashes in her eyes. "Yes or no, right now."
"Yes."
Suddenly, Hotch is now sitting on the bed next to him. Holding Emily's hand.
"All right then. And if you're very...*very* good, you may get a treat afterwards."
Dave opens his mouth to snark; before he can do so, the tie is gently lashed around his mouth instead. He flicks his tongue out, to lick, get a sense of its texture.
Hotch, or Emily, or both of them, he can't tell, remove his shirt and undershirt in a heartbeat. But it's Aaron who puts on the handcuffs; behind him, behind his head, but resting on a pillow. Tilted just so he can see the other bed in the room.
He's trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in Armani trousers, and David Rossi is the most turned on he's ever been.
They start slow, Aaron and Emily. Kissing, softly; Aaron finding all the tiny spots, the dimples in Emily's neck and shoulder. Emily running her hands through his dark hair; it's shorter then it usually is. Aaron is as methodical as he ever is, unbuttoning her blouse button by button, punctuating each with kisses as he works his way down. Now the blouse is gone, and she sits, spreading her legs, then embracing him with them.
When Aaron undoes Emily's zipper, Dave feels every inch of it; his erection is starting hurt a little now, straining against the fabric of his pants. But he says nothing; he wants his treat, but more than that, he couldn't bear to ruin this moment.
Aaron doesn't go for the tongue right away, oh no. Instead, he alternates his lips, and the tip of his thumb, gradually increasing the pressure on her clit. Emily is clearly not complaining; those noises have never meant that in the past, at least.
But Emily Prentiss is not always a patient woman, or one to lack initiative. In one swift motion, she lifts Aaron on top of her. They writhe, grind for a bit. Dave can't quite hear what she says, but he's pretty it's something to the effect of "my turn." She whispers something else in his ear, a question, permission. And in a slightly less extreme motion, Emily is now atop him, Aaron staring at her like she's the most glorious being in the world.
Where Aaron was gradual, Em is rushed, desparate; the shirt is gone in a nanosecond, the pants a moment later. For a moment, Dave gets an eyeful of Aaron in toto, and tries to appreciate it.
(The scars don't shock them any more, either of them. They went slow the first few times; built up trust. Dave is so grateful for that now.)
He knew it before, but he's reminded even more now, how much Emily is a force of nature. She's chained it up, bound it over years of training and disappointment and sorrow. But what Emily wants, Emily gets. And what Emily wants is Aaron, all over; neck, chest, belly, with her hands, her mouth, her tongue. She reaches Aaron's cock; teases it with her lithe fingers, from root to tip; then takes it in whole. The movement is so fast that Aaron rocks back at the sensation, but Emily holds on.
And then, the little minx smiles. At Aaron, and then at Dave, purposely catching his eye. Now the sensation of cock, against boxers, against trousers is nearing physical pain, but Dave still can't seem to care.
Aaron is moaning softly; he extends Emily an open palm. Pulls her upward so they're face-to-face. The two of them have this thing, a rhythm they've got that Dave will never quite understand. From the slickness he can see glistening on her thigh, Emily's been ready for a while. She glides (there's no other word) carefully, slowly, letting Aaron's cock fill her. They rock, as one, slowly at first, then faster, faster until they come, first Aaron, then Emily.
Dave can't help it. He breaks the rules, just then. He wants to come, needs to come, but can only yelp pitifully, straining against the tie and the handcuffs.
The two of them are, unaccountably, paying attention. Panting, they look over at Dave in unison. Then exchange one of those wordless looks that they specialize in.
Aaron speaks first.
"Do you think he's behaved, Emily?"
"Oh, yes, I think he's been a very, *very* good boy."
Emily, still gloriously naked, shifts behind his head. Aaron puts his nimble fingers to work freeing Dave's protesting erection.
But the tie stays on. Because Dave Rossi has a very big mouth.
*fin*
Rating: NC-17/FRAO (Pornz ahoy)
Genre: Het/Threesome/slight bondage
Spoilers: None
Pairing: Hotch/Prentiss/Rossi
Note: Written for Porn Battle XI: Eleven Days of Porn, for the prompts "tradeoffs" and "handcuffs."
Summary:
It starts, as many things do, because David Rossi has a big mouth.
(In the figurative sense at least; though the feedback he receives usually suggests a general happiness with the literal sense.)
And technically, it didn't *start* this time. Hell, it started long enough ago, these idylls in hotel rooms, that Dave's not even sure of the date. Of the evening, after a win or a loss or a win that felt like a loss.
The evening when him and Hotch stretched out on a scratchy hotel room double bed, talking, became him and Hotch and Emily stretched out on a double bed, talking. And the later evening. When things became a little bit more complicated, but a lot more fun.
That's when it started, and Dave's almost afraid to write down a date for it, just in case that makes it end.
It's half talking anyway, even though the sex part is fantastic. And, as with everything else in his life, it's the talking part that gets him in trouble.
A crappy b-movie on basic cable. 3 profilers, unable to turn off their brains. And David Rossi, on the subject of voyeurism: "I think it'd be fun to just watch sometime. At the very least, you guys would be entertaining."
Silence. He feels two dark-eyed glares on him in tandem, and Emily, controller of the remote, whacks him on the thigh with it.
"We'd be a hell of lot more then entertaining, jackass. We'd be the best you'd ever seen."
She smiles half-way through this, affectionate, giving herself away. And then Aaron leans over. Whispers in her ear, at length, then looks at Dave, still saying nothing. But Dave knows that look; that glint in Aaron's eye always means something entirely unpredictable.
Emily starts to grin. "I think that's an absolutely fantastic idea. If you'd go find the equipment?" Hotch obliges; Emily suddenly flips on top of Dave. The imperious sight of her gets him half-hard right there.
"We've agreed; you can watch. But there's a tradeoff."
Dave puts on his best shit-eating grin.
"Name it."
Instead, Emily motions over to Hotch, who is now holding a) his red silk tie and b) one of their pairs of handcuffs. Dave's heart starts to race, his breath quickens. Now, Emily speaks.
"No moving. No talking, not even a sound. And the pants stay on." The fire he loves so much, flashes in her eyes. "Yes or no, right now."
"Yes."
Suddenly, Hotch is now sitting on the bed next to him. Holding Emily's hand.
"All right then. And if you're very...*very* good, you may get a treat afterwards."
Dave opens his mouth to snark; before he can do so, the tie is gently lashed around his mouth instead. He flicks his tongue out, to lick, get a sense of its texture.
Hotch, or Emily, or both of them, he can't tell, remove his shirt and undershirt in a heartbeat. But it's Aaron who puts on the handcuffs; behind him, behind his head, but resting on a pillow. Tilted just so he can see the other bed in the room.
He's trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey in Armani trousers, and David Rossi is the most turned on he's ever been.
They start slow, Aaron and Emily. Kissing, softly; Aaron finding all the tiny spots, the dimples in Emily's neck and shoulder. Emily running her hands through his dark hair; it's shorter then it usually is. Aaron is as methodical as he ever is, unbuttoning her blouse button by button, punctuating each with kisses as he works his way down. Now the blouse is gone, and she sits, spreading her legs, then embracing him with them.
When Aaron undoes Emily's zipper, Dave feels every inch of it; his erection is starting hurt a little now, straining against the fabric of his pants. But he says nothing; he wants his treat, but more than that, he couldn't bear to ruin this moment.
Aaron doesn't go for the tongue right away, oh no. Instead, he alternates his lips, and the tip of his thumb, gradually increasing the pressure on her clit. Emily is clearly not complaining; those noises have never meant that in the past, at least.
But Emily Prentiss is not always a patient woman, or one to lack initiative. In one swift motion, she lifts Aaron on top of her. They writhe, grind for a bit. Dave can't quite hear what she says, but he's pretty it's something to the effect of "my turn." She whispers something else in his ear, a question, permission. And in a slightly less extreme motion, Emily is now atop him, Aaron staring at her like she's the most glorious being in the world.
Where Aaron was gradual, Em is rushed, desparate; the shirt is gone in a nanosecond, the pants a moment later. For a moment, Dave gets an eyeful of Aaron in toto, and tries to appreciate it.
(The scars don't shock them any more, either of them. They went slow the first few times; built up trust. Dave is so grateful for that now.)
He knew it before, but he's reminded even more now, how much Emily is a force of nature. She's chained it up, bound it over years of training and disappointment and sorrow. But what Emily wants, Emily gets. And what Emily wants is Aaron, all over; neck, chest, belly, with her hands, her mouth, her tongue. She reaches Aaron's cock; teases it with her lithe fingers, from root to tip; then takes it in whole. The movement is so fast that Aaron rocks back at the sensation, but Emily holds on.
And then, the little minx smiles. At Aaron, and then at Dave, purposely catching his eye. Now the sensation of cock, against boxers, against trousers is nearing physical pain, but Dave still can't seem to care.
Aaron is moaning softly; he extends Emily an open palm. Pulls her upward so they're face-to-face. The two of them have this thing, a rhythm they've got that Dave will never quite understand. From the slickness he can see glistening on her thigh, Emily's been ready for a while. She glides (there's no other word) carefully, slowly, letting Aaron's cock fill her. They rock, as one, slowly at first, then faster, faster until they come, first Aaron, then Emily.
Dave can't help it. He breaks the rules, just then. He wants to come, needs to come, but can only yelp pitifully, straining against the tie and the handcuffs.
The two of them are, unaccountably, paying attention. Panting, they look over at Dave in unison. Then exchange one of those wordless looks that they specialize in.
Aaron speaks first.
"Do you think he's behaved, Emily?"
"Oh, yes, I think he's been a very, *very* good boy."
Emily, still gloriously naked, shifts behind his head. Aaron puts his nimble fingers to work freeing Dave's protesting erection.
But the tie stays on. Because Dave Rossi has a very big mouth.
*fin*