The First Unburdened Breath
Title: The First Unburdened Breath
Pairing: Reid/JJ
Rating: Hard R/NC17
Warnings: Sex. Implied infidelity. Spoilers for Lauren
Notes: Good Fucking God. I've finally written something. I am not 100% happy with it, but I am glad to have fucking finished it. The End :p
She tells him.
She's promised herself that she wouldn’t; that Emily's life is the most sacred thing; more sacred, even, than the bridge of trust that they have bricked together between them over the mire of nearly seven years.
But in the end, JJ tells him. She supposes she knew all along that she would; she'd just imagined it would take more than a week. More than the first press of their naked skin in what he still supposes is a post-Emily world. More than the brush of Spencer's hair against the inside of her thigh when he leans his cheek there and asks her what's wrong.
It's the secret that’s sitting like a boulder between her brain and her body. Nothing - not the way his throat vibrates through a moan when she tugs on his hair, not the way he flattens his tongue and lets her rock against it, not even the sound of his wet and breathless voice, oh you taste good; I've missed you - can take her past it.
After so long, he knows what she needs, and he knows that he’s giving it to her. This was supposed to be comfortable. Familiar. A relief, like sinking back into the couch with exhausted feet and an aching back and closing your eyes against the day. Instead, it's a tangle of sensation, her body gun-shy, flinching back from the edge over and over like a skittish animal. He can feel the stunted current of her orgasm shoving itself back against his teeth every time her hips jerk.
"What is it?" Spencer finally says. "What’s wrong?"
He looks up at her from his place on his knees, the pupils of his calmly concerned eyes as wide as dinner plates. She can feel the breath of his speech between her thighs, warm where it's sometimes cool. The hand she's thrust into his hair loosens, and JJ lets her thumb glide over the sharp plane of his cheekbone.
Already, she can feel the words rattling the cage of her ribs. So much of her life is spent doling out truth in measured doses like medicine - to shattered families, to the press, even to the father of her own child. Too little is useless, and too much can be fatal. It’s always about judgment and precision and knowing how much to hold back.
Not with him, though. Never with him.
Under Spencer's gaze she has always felt naked. Inside-out. The rest of it - whatever it is; this nameless thing they do, have always done, have never discussed - is just their ghost borrowing their bodies. The inner monologue acting itself out.
It makes the lie and the silence taste wrong in her mouth; metallic and bloody like a knife against her tongue.
He kisses her thoughtlessly, his lips brushing the sweaty cradle of her hip as he waits for her answer, and that’s finally what breaks her.
"She's alive," JJ says, her fist tightening again in his hair as his expression changes. "She's alive. Please don't…. She… I… I had to… I didn't want… She's alive."
The boulder in her chest drops to her stomach in one leaden shift, and the force of it makes her flinch and press herself against his mouth. He says nothing. He makes no noise. No question, no judgment, no exhale of relief. His jaw does not click into the hard line of betrayal. He just parts his lips and closes his eyes, and JJ holds on until she's shaking and sobbing and moaning, strands of her hair plastered to her neck with the sweat this was never supposed to create, her pulse like a bomb inside of her body.
When it's over, she lets herself sink down to her knees, her thighs wrapped around his. He's hard for her, wet and sticky against her belly, and inexplicably, it makes the tears lurch up again. Spencer lets them come, lets them spill down the dip in his clavicle, his hand big and warm and firm at the small of her back.
"Because of you," he finally says, his body stilled beneath hers.
JJ sniffs. "What?"
"She’s alive because of you." He pauses for a second, then says, "Thank you."
JJ raises her red eyes to his. "I lied to you."
He meets her wary stare, steady and level and unflinching. "You protected Emily. You did what needed to be done. No one else - none of us - could have."
"I've never lied to you before."
"I know."
"It was hard."
He studies her, tucking a wet, errant strand of her hair behind one ear, still pink at its tip. "I know," he says again, softer this time. It isn't a judgment. There is no so don't do it again buoying the sentence. It just simply is.
JJ leans her head against his shoulder, her mouth open and slack against his salty skin, and takes her first unburdened breath in seven days.
Pairing: Reid/JJ
Rating: Hard R/NC17
Warnings: Sex. Implied infidelity. Spoilers for Lauren
Notes: Good Fucking God. I've finally written something. I am not 100% happy with it, but I am glad to have fucking finished it. The End :p
She tells him.
She's promised herself that she wouldn’t; that Emily's life is the most sacred thing; more sacred, even, than the bridge of trust that they have bricked together between them over the mire of nearly seven years.
But in the end, JJ tells him. She supposes she knew all along that she would; she'd just imagined it would take more than a week. More than the first press of their naked skin in what he still supposes is a post-Emily world. More than the brush of Spencer's hair against the inside of her thigh when he leans his cheek there and asks her what's wrong.
It's the secret that’s sitting like a boulder between her brain and her body. Nothing - not the way his throat vibrates through a moan when she tugs on his hair, not the way he flattens his tongue and lets her rock against it, not even the sound of his wet and breathless voice, oh you taste good; I've missed you - can take her past it.
After so long, he knows what she needs, and he knows that he’s giving it to her. This was supposed to be comfortable. Familiar. A relief, like sinking back into the couch with exhausted feet and an aching back and closing your eyes against the day. Instead, it's a tangle of sensation, her body gun-shy, flinching back from the edge over and over like a skittish animal. He can feel the stunted current of her orgasm shoving itself back against his teeth every time her hips jerk.
"What is it?" Spencer finally says. "What’s wrong?"
He looks up at her from his place on his knees, the pupils of his calmly concerned eyes as wide as dinner plates. She can feel the breath of his speech between her thighs, warm where it's sometimes cool. The hand she's thrust into his hair loosens, and JJ lets her thumb glide over the sharp plane of his cheekbone.
Already, she can feel the words rattling the cage of her ribs. So much of her life is spent doling out truth in measured doses like medicine - to shattered families, to the press, even to the father of her own child. Too little is useless, and too much can be fatal. It’s always about judgment and precision and knowing how much to hold back.
Not with him, though. Never with him.
Under Spencer's gaze she has always felt naked. Inside-out. The rest of it - whatever it is; this nameless thing they do, have always done, have never discussed - is just their ghost borrowing their bodies. The inner monologue acting itself out.
It makes the lie and the silence taste wrong in her mouth; metallic and bloody like a knife against her tongue.
He kisses her thoughtlessly, his lips brushing the sweaty cradle of her hip as he waits for her answer, and that’s finally what breaks her.
"She's alive," JJ says, her fist tightening again in his hair as his expression changes. "She's alive. Please don't…. She… I… I had to… I didn't want… She's alive."
The boulder in her chest drops to her stomach in one leaden shift, and the force of it makes her flinch and press herself against his mouth. He says nothing. He makes no noise. No question, no judgment, no exhale of relief. His jaw does not click into the hard line of betrayal. He just parts his lips and closes his eyes, and JJ holds on until she's shaking and sobbing and moaning, strands of her hair plastered to her neck with the sweat this was never supposed to create, her pulse like a bomb inside of her body.
When it's over, she lets herself sink down to her knees, her thighs wrapped around his. He's hard for her, wet and sticky against her belly, and inexplicably, it makes the tears lurch up again. Spencer lets them come, lets them spill down the dip in his clavicle, his hand big and warm and firm at the small of her back.
"Because of you," he finally says, his body stilled beneath hers.
JJ sniffs. "What?"
"She’s alive because of you." He pauses for a second, then says, "Thank you."
JJ raises her red eyes to his. "I lied to you."
He meets her wary stare, steady and level and unflinching. "You protected Emily. You did what needed to be done. No one else - none of us - could have."
"I've never lied to you before."
"I know."
"It was hard."
He studies her, tucking a wet, errant strand of her hair behind one ear, still pink at its tip. "I know," he says again, softer this time. It isn't a judgment. There is no so don't do it again buoying the sentence. It just simply is.
JJ leans her head against his shoulder, her mouth open and slack against his salty skin, and takes her first unburdened breath in seven days.