Title: O
Pairing: Reid/JJ
Prompt: Reading via
cm_het_drabbleRating: Hard R/NC17
Words: 542
Warnings: Nudity, sexuality, D/s, mild bondage, language
Notes: The italicized passage is from The Story of O by Pauline Réage (Anne Desclos). Don't ask me where the hell this came from, LOL, or why this is what that prompt made me think of... but I have one hell of a Reid/JJ D/s kink.
"I'm almost as tall as you in these damn things," JJ says, one eyebrow raised archly, clicking the scarlet heel of her stiletto against the floor.
"Mmhmm. But you definitely wear them better than I do." Spencer catches her eye, and the corner of his mouth is tilted up into the sort of smirk that JJ wants to just bite.
"Maybe, maybe not," she answers, "you cheeky little bastard."
His face transforms into mock sternness, his eyebrows drawing down under the rim of his glasses. "That's enough lip," he says. "Hands up."
JJ holds his gaze now, even and dark, and backs up against the closed door. She makes a show out of stretching her arms above her head and crossing them at the wrists; of slinking down low; of wetting her lips. There will be an exchange of power in a moment, but for now, she is wielding hers for all it's worth.
He checks it immediately. "Not like that. Turn around."
JJ's eyes widen for a split second before she composes her expression. "Then I can't see you."
Spencer doesn't answer, just reaches to his right and picks the cuffs off of the dresser. JJ draws a quick, sharp breath and does as she's told, pressing her palms against the door above her head and turning to face it. She hears his bare feet pad softly towards her, and then he is pressed against her back, skin-on-skin. His cock is hard and his mouth is soft, and she moans against the door when his lips brush against the back of her ear.
"Already?" he asks, teasing as the cuffs click into place. His apartment is old, and there is a chain on the door. The cuffs are linked through it. It's just a cursory restraint really, an illusion, but they both know she isn't going to test it.
"Mmmhmm," she whispers back.
"Good." His hand runs down her bare back, traces the cleft of her ass, then dips between her thighs. She gasps again, then presses her forehead against the doorframe in frustration when he takes it away. He kisses the base of her neck, and she can feel his smile. "You know the rules," he chides gently, and JJ nods.
She hears him walk back across the room, and she hears the mattress creak as he settles himself on it. The nightstand drawer opens. Though she can't see him from this position, she closes her eyes and pictures him, naked except for his glasses, sprawled on his belly across the bed, the book open between his elegant hands.
"Where did we leave off?" he asks, and JJ can practically hear his brow furrow. When he finds the spot, he reads slowly for her, lets the words fill up his mouth, slide off his tongue, travel straight through them both like current through a circuit. "Right. Here we are. The word 'open' and the expression 'opening her legs' were, on her lover's lips, charged with such uneasiness and power that she could never hear them without experiencing a kind of internal prostration, a sacred submission, as though a god, and not he, had spoken to her. So she remained motionless, and her hands were lying palm upward beside her knees..."