Fanfic: Lately, Falling's Been Easy On Me [Criminal Minds]
Title: Lately, Falling's Been Easy On Me
Author: wanderingjasper
Rating: NC17/FRAO
Characters: Morgan/Reid
Word Count: 3708
Themes: Sci-fi, wingfic, sex.
Warnings: Hard smut.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I do take liberties with them for no financial gain.
Notes: Written for Kink Meme IV.
Summary: Reid is captured by an unsub who gives him wings. He copes well, but Morgan suddenly becomes distant...
“Lately, falling’s been easy on me, just like breathing used to be. And call me crazy, but I was thinking maybe you'd be waiting on the ground to come and catch me.” - Matt Nathanson: Wings
“I don’t think we can remove them.” The doctor sounded bewildered, shaking his head. The rest of the team looked from the doctor through the glass into the hospital room Reid was asleep in. He looked peaceful and unreal on the hospital bed amongst all the tawny dappled feathers of the huge wings protruding from his back, curled around his body like a blanket.
“What?” Hotch said, tearing his eyes away from his team member.
“They’re more than grafted to him,” the doctor attempted to explain; “they’re fused. If it wasn’t impossible, I would have taken one took at his x-rays and said he was born with those wings. They’re attached to the nervous system and his blood system, and the scapula of the wing is fused to his human skeleton. He’s demonstrated increasing motor control over them. Trying to remove them would likely kill him, and even trying to clip them back to horn-like stumps could cause serious complications.”
Morgan gave a disbelieving laugh, not entirely free of panic.
“Does he know?” Hotch asked. “That they can’t be removed?”
“He does.” The doctor nodded. “He’s still suffering from the anaesthesia he was given, however. Whoever did this to him was a surgeon with unprecedented skill. It’s hard to believe how little physical trauma there is.”
“How is Molly Snider doing?” Hotch asked, referring to another victim of the same procedure.
“Not well,” the doctor concurred. “Again, the surgery was well performed, but she has a blood infection. Spencer isn’t at risk from that.” He added quickly to the assembled team. “He’s almost completely healed. He’s free to leave when he’s ready, although it’ll be no surprise if people attempt to invite him to take part in studies or tests. As you can imagine, we couldn’t suppress this very well. I have to go to my other patients, now.”
Most of the team was still looking at Reid, unable to look away from his wings.
“I don’t think we’re going to find any more victims,” Rossi said, making everyone look around at him. “He’s perfected his craft,” he explained, “and now he has, he’ll probably find willing participants. Maybe even customers. If he already had investors and has clients lined up like we suspected, I doubt we’ll ever catch him. That kind of money can hide anything.”
---
The worst thing about having wings, Reid had decided three days after leaving the hospital, was that he’d had to ruin some of his clothes. He’d tried strapping them down with a makeshift harness fashioned out of belts, had while he’d been surprised how well that works to make it look like he didn’t have wings (if he wore a long coat to cover them), but it was not comfortable at all. He’d tried to cut holes in some of his shirts, but had no finesse when it came to it and had ruined one of his favourite jumpers.
Eventually he’d relented and called Garcia, asking her to come over. She was awkward and curious around his wings, but he didn’t expect anything else and was happy to talk about them. Finally, after guessing measurements because Reid wasn’t comfortable with anyone touching the wings, and testing and cutting patterns, Garcia was sewing a hem into one of his newly adjusted shirts, forgoing the sewing machine she’s brought round because of the delicate nature of the material.
“So you’re okay with this?” she asked, looking up over her glasses. He shrugged, the action of his shoulders mirrored by his wings which he didn’t have complete control over the motion of yet.
“They’re permanent, I’ve got to adapt,” he said. She smiled at him.
“Have the rest of them come to see you?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, looking up from his book on bird evolution. If he had wings now, he had to have as much information as possible about them. “Emily brought me a book on training domestic parrots to do tricks.”
Garcia giggled, and then swore as she pricked herself with the needle.
“Except-” Reid said, looking back down at his book without reading it, worrying his lip a little with his teeth, “Morgan hasn’t visited since I got home. Or called.” That was especially disappointing because before Reid’s capture and use as an experimental subject, things had been good between them. Good meaning they had a close, sometimes romantic and sexual relationship that neither had officially defined, which simple occurred naturally.
“Oh.” Penelope sounded surprised, and a quick glance up showed her paused, looking pensive. “Maybe he’s... I dunno. That’s not like him.”
“Maybe he’s freaked out by the wings.”
“Well he’ll have to get over that,” she said. “He’s going to be working with the BAU’s own owlkin again soon enough.”
“Owlkin?”
“Yeah,” she smiled at him. “It’s weird, I’d of expected if someone got wings they’d be white. I guess... I don’t know what he did to you,” she proceeded carefully, making sure he didn’t object to her phrasing, “but they sort of match. Like if humans were meant to have wings, yours would have grown like that.”
“I guess they are a part of me,” Reid said. “He - the unsub - explained the science to me. I can’t remember everything; I was drugged at the time. But he said the feathers would regenerate as they were lost, like a bird.”
“Do you think you can fly?”
“In theory,” Reid said. “They weren’t meant to, but the hospital gave me a copy of my x-rays. The - my - wings have the typical bone structure of birds capable of flight, and the primary and secondary flight feathers are sizable enough to theoretically enable flight. Not that I’m sure I, of all people, should attempt to fly.”
“Wouldn’t you like to try, though?” she grinned at him, handing over the altered shirt. “I mean, how amazing would that be?”
He just smiled, without mentioning he was already wondering how he would go about practicing.
---
When Reid returned to work almost two weeks later, Morgan was relieved to see that the man had strapped his wings down somehow under his clothing. For some reason he had been absolutely dreading seeing them again. His relief did not last long, however, since after a quiet word with Hotch, Reid disappeared discreetly, and returned with his wings in full display. Nobody in the bullpen made a fuss, either out of polite respect or because they’d been ordered not to bombard Reid with questions and comments.
Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off the man. He had found him beautiful before his addition; tall, slender, lean and strong, creamy golden skin and short curly hair that was beginning to get longer, a perfect jaw line and cute nose, a long neck and long limbs, held by an awkward poise.
The wings were huge, although sat folded behind Reid’s back and seemed smaller. Morgan thought if Reid stretched out his full wingspan it would probably be almost twelve feet. The feathers were huge compared to birds but proportional to Reid, hues of brown and gold that complimented his complexion and his hair, and they reminded Morgan of an owl or a falcon. They were beautiful, dazzling, and completely wrong.
They were wings. On a human. A human who had evolved away from reptiles and birds millennia ago; wings weren’t even natural for primates. When Reid turned and caught him staring, he scowled and skulked off in the opposite direction.
As much as he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about Reid’s wings. He didn’t trust himself to look at them again, and avoided Reid as much as possible, thankfully made easy by a day at the office rather than a case. There was a moment when Reid passed within a few feet of him and he felt the air shift around him from Reid’s wings and he suddenly wanted to grab the man and kiss him. He missed kissing Reid; he’d realised when the man had been kidnapped that he’d wasted so much time not kissing him. He’d promised himself that if Reid had come out alive, he’d ask him to date rather than their occasional hooking up. But when he’d seen Reid unconscious in the sterile white underground cell of the missing unsub who had called himself a practitioner of ‘homornithology’, brown wings protruding from his back, he’d felt sick.
It came as a surprise, therefore, when several days later Morgan woke up from a dream involving Reid and his wings, and his cock was rock hard. In the fuzzy feeling of half sleep it occurred to him to wrap his hand around himself and let the images swim in his conscious, stroking to the thought of Reid’s beautiful slender body framed with the glorious elegance of those wings, flicked his thumb over the head of his cock as he imagined what it would be like for Reid to crawl up his body, his wings framing them, breeze dancing across their hot skin. As he came the image of Reid flapped his powerful wings, and Morgan moaned the man’s name.
It was not a happy revelation to realise it was not the wings that made him uncomfortable; it was the fact that his feelings towards them were the complete opposite of negative.
---
When Reid realised that Morgan was disgusted by the sight of his wings, he felt wounded. He could deal with strangers and people at Quantico staring and muttering and whispering; he honestly didn’t care what they thought. But when the man he wanted, the man he had promised himself when he had been a prisoner he wouldn’t waste any more time dancing around couldn’t bear to look at him or speak or him, it stung.
Stood in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, Reid gave his wings a small experimental flap. He was learning to exert more control over them, each time it took less conscious effort. Slowly he spread them out, displaying the full majesty of them, taking a step back to better see them in the mirror. They were very mobile, jointed differently than bird’s wings and allowing for more angles. That made sense, considering birds didn’t have arms too. It also made things easier for Reid; they were large but light, and even though it wasn’t comfortable lying on his back for long he didn’t usually sleep like that anyway, preferring his side or front. They were fascinating, and beautiful, but they had made Morgan distant, and for that he felt sad looking at them in the mirror as they returned to a relaxed state.
He was watching a documentary on birds of prey and reading a book on the bird species of Borneo when there was a knock at the door.
“What?” he said shortly, opening the door to Morgan. He ruffled his feathers deliberately, because the last thing he wanted to do was give the man the satisfaction of seeing him upset at the knowledge that the wings had stopped Morgan wanting to associate with him.
“I- hey, I-” he grinned awkwardly. Reid blinked a couple of times, keeping his face as stoic as possible. “Can we talk?”
“Okay,” he shrugged. He noticed Morgan keeping his distance from his wings as he entered Reid’s apartment. In his living room Morgan stared at them, clearly unsure what to say.
“Reid... I...”
“Stop staring at them, Morgan,” Reid snapped. Morgan blinked and looked guiltily at his face.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Did you just come here to gawp at them?” Reid didn’t try to stop the annoyance seeping into his voice. “Strange, since the last thing you seem to want to do at work is look at me.”
“Yeah...” he mumbled.
“I know they freak you out,” Reid offered, his off-handed tone clearly sardonic, “but thanks for making the effort not to make me feel like shit for having them, man.”
“Reid, I’m sorry, I-”
“I mean I know they’re great lumbering unnatural ugly things that make me even more of a freak, but-”
“They’re not ugly,” Morgan said, and Reid blinked at him several times.
“Huh?”
“They’re not ugly,” Morgan said more slowly. “They’re - they’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me, Morgan?” Reid said, unable to keep the hurt and confusion out of his voice.
“I used to know this cop,” Morgan started, rubbing a nervous hand on his neck, “Dave. He got shot in the back, ended up paraplegic. He was still pretty mobile, but I mean he was never gonna walk again. And he met this woman, she was one of his physiotherapy nurses. And she was totally into him, because of the wheelchair. It turned her on; his chair, his disability. And it was freaky, really set me on edge. And then you got abducted, and he gave you those things... he drugged you and performed experimental surgery on you to give you god damn wings, and I feel like such a creep.”
“Why do you feel like a creep?” Reid said, worrying his lip with his teeth.
“Because,” Morgan gave a laugh that was wound tight, doing nothing to alleviate the tension like it was apparently meant to, “you’re fucking gorgeous, Reid. Want you so bad, promised myself I’d make you mine for-fucking-ever if we found you alive. But then the wings... and I didn’t think I’d be able to want you more, but I do. Because of those big feathery damn things! That’s... wrong... just sick, that something that got done to you like that, pretty much torture, that I get hard just thinking about you and those wings!”
Reid’s wings quivered, and Morgan couldn’t help looking at them, his face mortified. When Reid took a step towards him he automatically stepped back, so the paler man reached out a long arm and took a handful of Morgan’s t-shirt into his fist, stopping him from moving as he closed the gap between them. Morgan didn’t react when Reid kissed him.
“If you like them, why can’t this work?” Reid questioned quietly, lips brushing Morgan’s cheek, as he tried so hard not to come into contact with the large wings protruding from Reid’s back.
“It’s wrong... they’re a... deformity, maybe, and I’m into them. That’s so wrong.”
Reid exhaled through his nose impatiently, leaning back to look at Morgan in the face.
“I think your strabismus is cute,” he said simply. Morgan looked surprised.
“My lazy eye?”
“Technically strabismus is a form of visual impairment,” Reid nodded, “a disability for some people, because it can affect binocular vision and depth perception. It’s something about you I find interesting, that I find attractive. I don’t think there’s anything morally objectionable about that.”
“But I was born with that,” Morgan still looked worried, “you weren’t born with those.”
“No. But they’re a part of me now, they can’t be removed.”
“But-”
“No but, Morgan,” Reid chided. “Fascination is normal. They’re wings. I’m fascinated by them, everyone else is, there’s nothing wrong with curiosity. There’s nothing wrong with finding them interesting or even appealing. They're my wings, and if I say I don’t care that you’re attracted to them, then that should be good enough for you. Now touch them, Morgan.”
“What?” he gaped in surprise.
“I haven’t let anyone else touch them since the doctors after I was liberated,” Reid said.
“You haven’t?” Morgan frowned.
“I’d hoped... I wanted you to touch them. Ever since I realised what kind of sensation I get in them, with them having a system of nerves that the unsub fused to my own...”
“Sensation?”
Reid just nodded, staring intensely at Morgan. He reached out with a strong hand, then faltered and pulled it back to his side. Reid waited patiently, not looking away from him, though he had removed his own hand from Morgan’s front. He reached out again, and Reid noticed as Derek held his breath as his hand crept closer to one of Spencer’s brown wings.
When it connected, just slightly brushing some of his periphery feathers, Reid couldn’t help ruffling his wings in delight. The touch was so subtle, no sensation in the feathers, but the pressure and motion moved them where they were connected at the base, making him tingle. Finally Morgan smiled, brushing his hand over the feathers again.
“So soft,” he murmured. Reid closed the gap between them, kissing Morgan’s mouth and sighing out when the other returned the kiss, both hands now stroking over his wings, through them, carefully but more sure.
Carefully Reid moved his wings, curling them around so they encircled both of them as they kissed. Morgan let out a little sound of wonder and kissed Reid hard, hands falling to his hip and around to the small of his back, pulling his close.
Morgan didn’t resist being led to the bedroom by his belt, or when Reid undressed him. when Reid took his shirt off he turned, allowing Morgan to see how a button released between his shoulder blades opened up a hole in the fabric big enough to slip on and off over his wings, and he fumbled a little getting the shirt off. Morgan was staring in quiet wonder at him as he peeled away his trousers and underwear and his socks, leaving him stood naked, wings framing his slender form. He waited, watching Morgan’s face for a reaction. All he was getting so far was a mouth agape, sparkling eyes dark with desire, and a hardening cock. That was wonderful, but he wanted words. He needed to know Morgan wanted him.
“Reid...” he breathed. “You look like an angel.”
“Actually,” he could feel himself blushing, “in the majority of lore angels are depicted with white wings, although the structure of mine isn’t unlike those that common angels in popular media are portrayed with.”
“No, Reid, you really do,” Morgan chuckled breathlessly. “C’mere, angel boy.”
Reid smiled and compiled, encouraging Morgan back onto the bed and clambering into his lap, straddling his hips and angling his growing hardness against Morgan’s. He braced his hands on the man’s dark chest, smiling down at him as he pressed his hips forward. Morgan groaned, reaching back to put his hands on Reid’s rear, feathers brushing the backs of his hands.
As Reid began to move, rolling their bodies against each other, Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off of him. His slight muscles danced under his pale golden-hued flesh, his full lips were parted and his brown eyes heavily lidded, evening sunlight from the bedroom window dappling on the feathers of his wings, which gave a little shrug of a heave with each roll of their motion. It had been a couple of months since they’d been together, and as much as Morgan wanted every part of Reid against him and upon him and wrapped around him, he knew this was symbolic; this was about the wings. It wasn’t always going to be about them, and Morgan certainly wanted an ‘always’ with Reid, but this was about proving that they didn’t bar them from each other.
The rolling motion of their hips became more frantic, Reid leaning forward a little to increase the pressure, hands still braced on the other’s chest, wings flapping loosely, sending flurries of cool air over their hot bodies. Morgan groaned at the sensation against his tender flesh, coupled with the intense heat of their frotting bodies.
“Morgan...” Reid groaned, as dark hands slid around to grip creamy thighs, gripping and rolling his hips upwards into their movement.
“You close, baby?” he panted, knowing he was. Reid pushed himself more upright, riding his hips furiously against Morgan’s, arms lifting wantonly. He wasn’t even sure Reid realised he was doing it, undulating his torso so sensually as he balled his hands into fists and pressed his wrists against his head, stretching out all the muscles of his side, wings flapping slowly, enough to ruffle sheets of the bed.
“Morgan...” he breathed, groaning. “Morgan!” his groans became more constant, rising in pitch, and his wings gave a strong flap against his body.
Reid was beautiful when he came undone, but this was something entirely more spectacular. As Reid’s body shuddered and his cum streaked out across Morgan’s chest his huge wings spread out to their full magnificence, displayed still and rigid as his orgasm coursed through him. He groaned so lustfully and the light created an aura around his wings, his body caressed by light and shadow, head thrown back in his release. It was all too much for Morgan, whose cock exploded from the visual and the rubbing stimulation, seed darting out to mix with his winged lover’s, and he gripped Reid hard and swore as his consciousness fractured in pure bliss.
When sense returned to Morgan’s world, Reid was laying on top of him, panting against his neck. His wings were almost like a blanket over them, except one that flapped lazily and circulated a soothing cool breeze around them.
“Reid. You looked... stunning when you came,” he breathed. Spencer hummed his approval, kissing Derek’s throat. He peered upwards over the brown feathers, noticed the lampshade over the ceiling light at a wonky angle. He chuckled and Spencer moved a little, displacing his weight so he was curled over Morgan’s side, arm and leg still draped across him. He wondered if he’d ever be able to be the big spoon again with Reid’s wings; he’d probably be able to if he didn’t mind sleeping with a face full of feathers. He wasn’t sure he did mind; they were so silky and soft, he imagined it would be quite pleasant.
“Just in case we’re not on the same page...” Reid murmured into Morgan’s shoulder, enjoying the comforting masculine smell of his flesh, “I want more than we had before.”
“Yeah...” he returned lazily, kissing the man’s forehead. “Good. Because I’m never letting you go, angel boy.”
“You come around here, you open up your wings, and I'm drowning. You open up your wings and I'm gone.” - Matt Nathanson: Wings