FIC: Reflections In Candlelight (Hotch/Reid, NC-17)
Title: Reflections in Candlelight
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1136
Warnings: schmoop like woah.
Summary: Working late, and this is what makes it all worth it.
Note: innerslytherin was having a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day. I wrote this to make her feel better.
You're quiet when you sneak into your own home, wary of waking anybody up this late at night. The relief of being in your own space again makes you sigh as you shed your jacket and drop your briefcase by the sofa. You can see the remnants of the after-dinner experiments your son and your lover like to do, and you wish you could have been there tonight.
You unbutton your shirtsleeves and loosen your tie as you wander through the house, checking that Jack is sleeping deeply and well. He is, and you move back towards your room, opening the door and sighing at the sight before you.
Spencer hates it when you call him beautiful, he thinks it too feminine a term for him, but that's what he is. The room smells of candle wax, and a few of the scattered tealights have already guttered out, but there's enough candlelight remaining to send a warm glow over him. He's fallen asleep while reading again, curled up on his side and hugging your pillow close to him, the book just a few scant inches away.
You hate having to stay late at work, but it's this very sight that makes it worth it. The door latches firmly closed behind you and you begin to quietly undress, already planning what to do with the warm, pliant lover in your bed.
Naked, you creep to the other side of the bed and quietly retrieve the lube from the nightstand; then lift the blankets and ease into bed, shushing Spencer's sleepy murmur and running a hand over his bare waist.
Spencer's on his side, facing away from you, in the perfect position for you to lube up a finger and circle his opening, easing it past the sleepy muscle. He moans as you begin to move, setting an easy pace, and you ghost your mouth over his neck, licking warm flesh until he settles.
When Spencer moved in, he brought a free-standing, floor length mirror with him. It's set up across the room, and sometimes you wonder if he did it on purpose, when you can look over his shoulder and see yourself behind him, watch the way his chest flushes with arousal even in sleep.
Eventually he's ready for a second finger, and you can't help gently scraping teeth over his shoulder at the tight heat around your fingers. Your erection is an insistent ache, but you ignore it, more focused on taking your time and making sure you don't wake him until you're ready.
Three fingers, and by the time those are finally moving easily, he's making the most delicious mewling sounds and moving restlessly against you.
God, you love him. You love him when he's focused and intense, you love him when he's hiding behind his knowledge, you love him when he's irritable and restless, but it hits you hardest when he's like this; open and wanting and yes, beautiful.
You can see him in the mirror, the little frown he makes when you pull your fingers free and reach around him to stroke his erection to full hardness. It doesn't take long, and then you're tugging on his hip, encouraging him to turn onto his back so you can kneel over him. You pull his legs over yours and move over him, again ignoring that teasing brush of cock against cock to brush the hair away from his face and kiss him gently.
You could drown in his kisses, in the way he opens so sweetly for you, even in his sleep. You draw his lower lip into your mouth and nibble on it gently, reaching down and adjusting the head of your aching erection to his entrance, just hovering there until he begins to kiss you back and blink the sleep from his eyes.
He reaches for your shoulders, grip tightening with a gasp, eyes widening in pleasure as you steadily sink into him. You may have walked through the door earlier, but now is when you feel you've finally come home.
You can't help yourself, you're murmuring into his ear, telling him the things you can't say during the day - how much you love him, how beautiful he is, how sexy his is, what he does to you, what you'd like to do to him. All of it combines to have him moving more purposefully against you, catching your mouth in a hungry kiss as he rakes his nails over taught nipples on the way to fist his own prick.
He can touch himself, you tell him, but he's not allowed to come until he's in your mouth. It earns you a shudder and a strangled whimper, the reaction pleasing you beyond words.
You're moving faster now, intent on achieving your own release so you can suck him off, the sweat glistening off the both of you in the flickering candlelight. The sounds he makes, the way he looks and feels beneath you all culminates to send you soundly over the edge. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him as he runs his hands over your back and shoulders, murmuring to you until you push yourself back up onto your arms and kiss him quiet, pulling free and kissing down his chest, stopping to worry at his nipples until he's making breathless threats and pushing you further down.
It makes you laugh, and you love that you can do so like this, and that makes you nuzzle the dip of his hip affectionately as you lick a stripe to his leaking prick. He's close, and you suck teasingly at the head of his cock until his threats turn serious, and you take him deeper, savoring the taste of him, the weight heavy on your tongue.
It's not long, you've been doing your best to rile him up since before you woke him in the first place, and it pays off in the muttered obscenities and the hot liquid pulsing against the back of your throat. You suck him through it, then lick him clean when he pushes at you, too sensitive for you to keep it up.
You slide back up his body, and pull him into your arms, sharing another kiss and holding him close for a minute. In a little while, you'll get up and get a cloth to clean up with, and then you'll fall asleep with him on top of you, because he'll make faces at being in the wet spot, and he'd rather use you as his pillow anyway.
But right now, you're sated and comfortable, and you just want to soak up the sight of yourselves entwined together and reflected back in the mirror, before the last candle gutters out and leaves you in smoke and darkness.
Author: darkhawkhealer
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1136
Warnings: schmoop like woah.
Summary: Working late, and this is what makes it all worth it.
Note: innerslytherin was having a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad day. I wrote this to make her feel better.
You're quiet when you sneak into your own home, wary of waking anybody up this late at night. The relief of being in your own space again makes you sigh as you shed your jacket and drop your briefcase by the sofa. You can see the remnants of the after-dinner experiments your son and your lover like to do, and you wish you could have been there tonight.
You unbutton your shirtsleeves and loosen your tie as you wander through the house, checking that Jack is sleeping deeply and well. He is, and you move back towards your room, opening the door and sighing at the sight before you.
Spencer hates it when you call him beautiful, he thinks it too feminine a term for him, but that's what he is. The room smells of candle wax, and a few of the scattered tealights have already guttered out, but there's enough candlelight remaining to send a warm glow over him. He's fallen asleep while reading again, curled up on his side and hugging your pillow close to him, the book just a few scant inches away.
You hate having to stay late at work, but it's this very sight that makes it worth it. The door latches firmly closed behind you and you begin to quietly undress, already planning what to do with the warm, pliant lover in your bed.
Naked, you creep to the other side of the bed and quietly retrieve the lube from the nightstand; then lift the blankets and ease into bed, shushing Spencer's sleepy murmur and running a hand over his bare waist.
Spencer's on his side, facing away from you, in the perfect position for you to lube up a finger and circle his opening, easing it past the sleepy muscle. He moans as you begin to move, setting an easy pace, and you ghost your mouth over his neck, licking warm flesh until he settles.
When Spencer moved in, he brought a free-standing, floor length mirror with him. It's set up across the room, and sometimes you wonder if he did it on purpose, when you can look over his shoulder and see yourself behind him, watch the way his chest flushes with arousal even in sleep.
Eventually he's ready for a second finger, and you can't help gently scraping teeth over his shoulder at the tight heat around your fingers. Your erection is an insistent ache, but you ignore it, more focused on taking your time and making sure you don't wake him until you're ready.
Three fingers, and by the time those are finally moving easily, he's making the most delicious mewling sounds and moving restlessly against you.
God, you love him. You love him when he's focused and intense, you love him when he's hiding behind his knowledge, you love him when he's irritable and restless, but it hits you hardest when he's like this; open and wanting and yes, beautiful.
You can see him in the mirror, the little frown he makes when you pull your fingers free and reach around him to stroke his erection to full hardness. It doesn't take long, and then you're tugging on his hip, encouraging him to turn onto his back so you can kneel over him. You pull his legs over yours and move over him, again ignoring that teasing brush of cock against cock to brush the hair away from his face and kiss him gently.
You could drown in his kisses, in the way he opens so sweetly for you, even in his sleep. You draw his lower lip into your mouth and nibble on it gently, reaching down and adjusting the head of your aching erection to his entrance, just hovering there until he begins to kiss you back and blink the sleep from his eyes.
He reaches for your shoulders, grip tightening with a gasp, eyes widening in pleasure as you steadily sink into him. You may have walked through the door earlier, but now is when you feel you've finally come home.
You can't help yourself, you're murmuring into his ear, telling him the things you can't say during the day - how much you love him, how beautiful he is, how sexy his is, what he does to you, what you'd like to do to him. All of it combines to have him moving more purposefully against you, catching your mouth in a hungry kiss as he rakes his nails over taught nipples on the way to fist his own prick.
He can touch himself, you tell him, but he's not allowed to come until he's in your mouth. It earns you a shudder and a strangled whimper, the reaction pleasing you beyond words.
You're moving faster now, intent on achieving your own release so you can suck him off, the sweat glistening off the both of you in the flickering candlelight. The sounds he makes, the way he looks and feels beneath you all culminates to send you soundly over the edge. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of him as he runs his hands over your back and shoulders, murmuring to you until you push yourself back up onto your arms and kiss him quiet, pulling free and kissing down his chest, stopping to worry at his nipples until he's making breathless threats and pushing you further down.
It makes you laugh, and you love that you can do so like this, and that makes you nuzzle the dip of his hip affectionately as you lick a stripe to his leaking prick. He's close, and you suck teasingly at the head of his cock until his threats turn serious, and you take him deeper, savoring the taste of him, the weight heavy on your tongue.
It's not long, you've been doing your best to rile him up since before you woke him in the first place, and it pays off in the muttered obscenities and the hot liquid pulsing against the back of your throat. You suck him through it, then lick him clean when he pushes at you, too sensitive for you to keep it up.
You slide back up his body, and pull him into your arms, sharing another kiss and holding him close for a minute. In a little while, you'll get up and get a cloth to clean up with, and then you'll fall asleep with him on top of you, because he'll make faces at being in the wet spot, and he'd rather use you as his pillow anyway.
But right now, you're sated and comfortable, and you just want to soak up the sight of yourselves entwined together and reflected back in the mirror, before the last candle gutters out and leaves you in smoke and darkness.