FIC: Ghost in the Machine (1/1) Criminal Minds
TITLE: Ghost in the Machine
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Things that go bump in the night
DISCLAIMER: Criminal Minds and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Porn Battle XII
She doesn’t believe in ghosts. Phantoms and specters are just ways to hide yourself from the real world, to be locked up in the digital when the real world isn’t what you want. But ghosts aren’t real. No one’s a ghost. No one can disappear in the wind. They can for a while, she knows that, but eventually the wind changes. It always changes.
Mary Poppins taught her that.
However, she doesn’t own a gun or a magic carpetbag, but she does own a cell phone and has a very large, intimidating, hot, sexy guy on speed dial. Derek doesn’t even ask. Just says he’ll be there when she calls him and whispers, “Help.”
He comes into her bedroom in his FBI windbreaker, his bulletproof vest and a pair of silk pajama bottoms. “You laugh and I’ll shoot you.” He warns her before coming over and sitting on the edge of her bed. She has the covers pulled up to her neck in a death grip, and she knows her eyes are wide and scared. “You okay, baby doll?”
“W-what was it?”
“Nothing that I could tell. You’re okay.”
“I heard something.”
“I know. I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m saying it isn’t there now, and it didn’t leave a trace that I can see.”
They’ve all had psych evals after the last case, and she knows it’s worn on them all. “It was real.”
“I know.” Derek reaches out, touching the tip of her nose. “I know, angel.”
She shakes her head. “I hate this part. I hate it. Questioning what I know, what I believe. I hate knowing those creeps are out there and we can’t catch them all, and I hate that…” She stops, gasping for air. Everything is rough and hot in her chest and she wants to scream.
“I know.” He pulls her into his arms, tugging her close. She reaches out, wrapping one arm around him, letting the covers fall to her waist. His vest feels rough and heavy, abrasive almost, against her skin, a sharp contrast to the soft fall of silk against his thigh where her other hand settles. “Trust me. I know.”
“You’re not scared.” She goes to shake her head again, but Derek’s hand is in her hair, tangled in the blonde and purple streaks, tilting her face up to his. “You’re not.”
“Scared to death right now,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over her lips. “Aren’t you?”
“Y-ye…” She’s cut off by his kiss, his mouth on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips. She moans into it, sucking on his tongue as he pushes her back onto the bed, struggling to get his arms out of the windbreaker as she pushes it off his shoulders. “Derek…god, Derek.”
“Baby. Baby.” He moves from her mouth to her jaw, down to her throat, nipping at her skin with sharp teeth, soothing it with his tongue. “Penelope.”
Her fingers fight the Velcro, tugging at the straps until the sharp rip of it separating fills the room. “Less talking. More undressing.”
He laughs, catching her mouth in another kiss before pulling away to tug his vest over his head. “Yes, ma’am.” He tosses the vest aside and stops, staring down at her. Penelope can feel the blush spread across her skin as his eyes move down from her neck to her breasts to the sheet at her waist. “You…”
“I know I’m not…”
“Like a goddess.” He bends his head and licks at a nipple before sucking it into his mouth. His teeth tease it, his stubble rasping against her skin. She gasps, her hands shaking as one fists in the sheets and the other moves up, curving around the back of his head, rubbing along his short hair. He makes soft noises of appreciation, sucking and licking and working his way to her other breast, leaving her wet and swollen and aching.
“D-Derek.” He pushes the covers off of her, moving them to the side as he eases over her. A silk-clad leg slides between both of hers, and all she can feel is the hard muscle as she squeezes her thighs together. “Oh, god,” her voice breaks and she arches up, sliding against him, canting her hips up for him.
Derek eases his way down, kissing a trail of heat down her body that she can’t process. Her internal servers are fried from his attention, from the way his tongue dips into her navel, from the way he kisses the swell of her stomach, the curve of her hip. She’s fighting to hold on when he finally eases her legs apart, sliding his tongue over her clit in one hot, flickering moment.
“Oh god.” She groans, her shoulders pushing into the mattress. He uses her thumbs to hold her skin apart, sliding his tongue along her labia, over her clit. He presses close and she works her legs over his shoulders, feeling his arms come around her and press against her ass. She presses her heels against his back and angles up to his mouth.
“Yeah,” he breathes against her skin. “Like that.” He presses more firmly against her, his tongue slipping inside her, his mouth settling on her clit and sucking rough and tight. She bucks back against the bed, head moving from side to side as she comes, panting desperate shallow gasps into the air.
She doesn’t make actual words when he keeps licking, just eventually uses her hands and feet to push him back, away so that she can breathe, too overloaded and overstimulated to think. Derek moves in and kisses her, face wet and slick and her and she licks and kisses herself from his mouth.
She can feel the movement as he shoves his pajama bottoms down and she pushes him away, glancing down. She’s imagined this moment a million times, and she wants to see. He’s thick and hard, curved slightly and the veins seeming purple instead of blue under his darker skin. She fumbles in the nightstand drawer for a condom and opens it, looking up through her lashes and bangs to see him watching her. “I…there was something. Th-that wasn’t a r-ruse.”
“I don’t care why I came, Penelope.” He guides her hands and the condom to his cock, thrusting against her fingers. “Just want to come. Inside you. Finally.”
“O-oh.” She thinks it comes out as a squeak, nothing actually dignified, but she manages to get the condom on him without passing out, without getting lost in the feel of stroking him and losing sight of her long term goal. At least not for too long. At least until Derek pushes her back and moves between her legs again.
It’s been a long time, and he’s big, thick and she digs her short nails into his back when he pushes in. She inhales sharply and then he’s inside her, breathing heavily against her neck as he braces over her, biceps flexing. “Say yes, beautiful.”
“Yes. Please. Derek. Please.”
He starts moving, and it’s everything she imagined, right down to the feel of his skin and the heat of his body, to the way her hips seem to cradle him and the way he pushes so deep, the way his mouth moves over her skin and the way he whispers her name. She wraps her legs around the back of his, moving up with every downward stroke, taking him as deep as she can.
She holds tight, holds on to him and what’s real. She holds onto the moment before it’s gone. Like a ghost.
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
RATING: R
SUMMARY: Things that go bump in the night
DISCLAIMER: Criminal Minds and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Porn Battle XII
She doesn’t believe in ghosts. Phantoms and specters are just ways to hide yourself from the real world, to be locked up in the digital when the real world isn’t what you want. But ghosts aren’t real. No one’s a ghost. No one can disappear in the wind. They can for a while, she knows that, but eventually the wind changes. It always changes.
Mary Poppins taught her that.
However, she doesn’t own a gun or a magic carpetbag, but she does own a cell phone and has a very large, intimidating, hot, sexy guy on speed dial. Derek doesn’t even ask. Just says he’ll be there when she calls him and whispers, “Help.”
He comes into her bedroom in his FBI windbreaker, his bulletproof vest and a pair of silk pajama bottoms. “You laugh and I’ll shoot you.” He warns her before coming over and sitting on the edge of her bed. She has the covers pulled up to her neck in a death grip, and she knows her eyes are wide and scared. “You okay, baby doll?”
“W-what was it?”
“Nothing that I could tell. You’re okay.”
“I heard something.”
“I know. I’m not saying you didn’t. I’m saying it isn’t there now, and it didn’t leave a trace that I can see.”
They’ve all had psych evals after the last case, and she knows it’s worn on them all. “It was real.”
“I know.” Derek reaches out, touching the tip of her nose. “I know, angel.”
She shakes her head. “I hate this part. I hate it. Questioning what I know, what I believe. I hate knowing those creeps are out there and we can’t catch them all, and I hate that…” She stops, gasping for air. Everything is rough and hot in her chest and she wants to scream.
“I know.” He pulls her into his arms, tugging her close. She reaches out, wrapping one arm around him, letting the covers fall to her waist. His vest feels rough and heavy, abrasive almost, against her skin, a sharp contrast to the soft fall of silk against his thigh where her other hand settles. “Trust me. I know.”
“You’re not scared.” She goes to shake her head again, but Derek’s hand is in her hair, tangled in the blonde and purple streaks, tilting her face up to his. “You’re not.”
“Scared to death right now,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over her lips. “Aren’t you?”
“Y-ye…” She’s cut off by his kiss, his mouth on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips. She moans into it, sucking on his tongue as he pushes her back onto the bed, struggling to get his arms out of the windbreaker as she pushes it off his shoulders. “Derek…god, Derek.”
“Baby. Baby.” He moves from her mouth to her jaw, down to her throat, nipping at her skin with sharp teeth, soothing it with his tongue. “Penelope.”
Her fingers fight the Velcro, tugging at the straps until the sharp rip of it separating fills the room. “Less talking. More undressing.”
He laughs, catching her mouth in another kiss before pulling away to tug his vest over his head. “Yes, ma’am.” He tosses the vest aside and stops, staring down at her. Penelope can feel the blush spread across her skin as his eyes move down from her neck to her breasts to the sheet at her waist. “You…”
“I know I’m not…”
“Like a goddess.” He bends his head and licks at a nipple before sucking it into his mouth. His teeth tease it, his stubble rasping against her skin. She gasps, her hands shaking as one fists in the sheets and the other moves up, curving around the back of his head, rubbing along his short hair. He makes soft noises of appreciation, sucking and licking and working his way to her other breast, leaving her wet and swollen and aching.
“D-Derek.” He pushes the covers off of her, moving them to the side as he eases over her. A silk-clad leg slides between both of hers, and all she can feel is the hard muscle as she squeezes her thighs together. “Oh, god,” her voice breaks and she arches up, sliding against him, canting her hips up for him.
Derek eases his way down, kissing a trail of heat down her body that she can’t process. Her internal servers are fried from his attention, from the way his tongue dips into her navel, from the way he kisses the swell of her stomach, the curve of her hip. She’s fighting to hold on when he finally eases her legs apart, sliding his tongue over her clit in one hot, flickering moment.
“Oh god.” She groans, her shoulders pushing into the mattress. He uses her thumbs to hold her skin apart, sliding his tongue along her labia, over her clit. He presses close and she works her legs over his shoulders, feeling his arms come around her and press against her ass. She presses her heels against his back and angles up to his mouth.
“Yeah,” he breathes against her skin. “Like that.” He presses more firmly against her, his tongue slipping inside her, his mouth settling on her clit and sucking rough and tight. She bucks back against the bed, head moving from side to side as she comes, panting desperate shallow gasps into the air.
She doesn’t make actual words when he keeps licking, just eventually uses her hands and feet to push him back, away so that she can breathe, too overloaded and overstimulated to think. Derek moves in and kisses her, face wet and slick and her and she licks and kisses herself from his mouth.
She can feel the movement as he shoves his pajama bottoms down and she pushes him away, glancing down. She’s imagined this moment a million times, and she wants to see. He’s thick and hard, curved slightly and the veins seeming purple instead of blue under his darker skin. She fumbles in the nightstand drawer for a condom and opens it, looking up through her lashes and bangs to see him watching her. “I…there was something. Th-that wasn’t a r-ruse.”
“I don’t care why I came, Penelope.” He guides her hands and the condom to his cock, thrusting against her fingers. “Just want to come. Inside you. Finally.”
“O-oh.” She thinks it comes out as a squeak, nothing actually dignified, but she manages to get the condom on him without passing out, without getting lost in the feel of stroking him and losing sight of her long term goal. At least not for too long. At least until Derek pushes her back and moves between her legs again.
It’s been a long time, and he’s big, thick and she digs her short nails into his back when he pushes in. She inhales sharply and then he’s inside her, breathing heavily against her neck as he braces over her, biceps flexing. “Say yes, beautiful.”
“Yes. Please. Derek. Please.”
He starts moving, and it’s everything she imagined, right down to the feel of his skin and the heat of his body, to the way her hips seem to cradle him and the way he pushes so deep, the way his mouth moves over her skin and the way he whispers her name. She wraps her legs around the back of his, moving up with every downward stroke, taking him as deep as she can.
She holds tight, holds on to him and what’s real. She holds onto the moment before it’s gone. Like a ghost.