Breathe - rated M, non con, Reid centric, HR implied.
This wasn't good, he was panicking and he couldn't make himself stop.
There was a grueling rhythm, it set him on fire, he was being split in two thanks to the enhancement the unsub was using on him. Reid's chest felt tight as his ribs expanded and contracted even faster, he felt light headed, almost anesthetized by shock of this all, but the pools of blood told him he was hurt.
The others were so close, this shouldn't be happening, and yet it was. The hostage situation had devolved into two unsubs with guns pinned on three civilians and another with a hard on reaming him so bad he couldn't even scream anymore. Not like he had screamed, no, he just panted in air faster and faster, expelling it because he sure as fuck couldn't expel the cock up his ass, or it's companion flashlight.
They were in a storm room, the kind to protect employees during a tornado, yet it left him in a conundrum when SWAT had no real options of head shots... The pace sped up, the man was close, Reid was close to passing out.
"Brody, I am sick of this, I did not sign up for you to get your fucking kink on you bastard! Those are FEDS they are going to take it out on ALL of us if we don't get out NOW..."
Brody merely laughed, "They aren't going to do jack shit as long as I have him with me. In fact, I want you to let that Hotchner bastard give you a bullhorn, we'll negotiate while I finish this up."
"You're a son of a bitch, Brody... But as long as I get through this alive, I don't care anymore."
"Damn right you don't. These people deprived our brother the meds he needed to live. So what if we take a few of them down with us in his memory?" He thrust some more, angled himself more harshly then continued his thrusts. He laughed into Reid's ear, "If I knew this would have shut you up, I'd have done it an hour ago."
Reid's glorified response was a wheeze, his chest burned with fatigue, the impossibly hard pace had gone for twelve minutes and this bastard didn't seem any closer to losing his load and just finishing up. Was it wrong that he wanted that? Just for it to stop?
Then there was a rush of air, screams, gunshots and authoritative calls... Suddenly he wasn't flat on his stomach, he was pulled to Brody's chest, his own pistol at his jaw. Brody thrusted twice more to finish his own race as blood and semen dripped down his thigh. Upright made his head even lighter, and yet simultaneously so heavy. His eyes were clouded over as he saw Hotch and Morgan look at him in sheer horror, he couldn't stop hyperventilating, he really hadn't expected it to be Rossi to take the shot, but he was good.
The arm that pinned him back suddenly went lax as Rossi's kill shot sent the man to the floor hard, unresponsive. Somehow, Reid kicked his own gun from the man's loose grip before he pitched forward. He felt too faint to be upright, hs brain needed oxygen, and conversely more carbon dioxide than it had. Carbon dioxide keeps blood and bodily functions regulated, mainly it prevents alkalosis of the blood. By the way his hands were twitching he'd say he was in respiratory alkalosis if he could venture the syllables. Sure the cramps were there, but even that felt detached.
A jacket draped his hips, it felt strangely cold even though it had come off of a body.
"Reid, you have to hold your breath..." Hotch ordered, he eyed the room for something, anything that he could use to stop the hyperventilation. Rossi, again with the winning hand, tossed over a paper sack. Apparently he did get to finish off his own lunch on the way over.
The bag was over his mouth and nose while Morgan secured the injured unsubs and cuffed them. By the looks of it, only one of the three would survive the ordeal, one was already dead... He applied pressure to the unsub who had opened the door's shoulder. The floor was already slicked red. The hostages had fled the room to awaiting rescuers, they were already cordoned off to be interviewed later, but no one knew how Reid had gotten into this predicament.
Reid grabbed Hotch by the wrist, his own breathing seemed to calm down now, but the blood around him was still ever-growing.
"Hos...hosp..."
"EMTs are coming up now. Reid what did he DO to you?!"
Reid touched Hotch's shoulder limply, "Where're my pants...?"
"In that corner..." Hotch reached for them, he took hold of Reid's service piece and holstered it. The shiner Reid had was impressively dark for only an hour and a half. The stand off had been that short, the unsubs had tried to flee after initial shots fired warnings were sent out, the spree killers apparently not planning for the death by cop, yet here they were now.
Morgan swore, "Damn it! I lost him." Two of the three unsubs, three brothers, were now dead. The third just kept looking at them expectantly, he couldn't have been older than 16.
He was only sixteen but accountable for more than twenty shooting deaths.
Reid tried to sit up, Hotch pinned his shoulder to the floor. "Stay down, Spencer."
Reid blinked in response. "I'm putting in my request for PTO in now... I think I should get the rest of this week off..."
Hotch let out a soft laugh, "So that's your master plan to get Thanksgiving week off, huh? I'd have given you the time off if you just asked. You have more than enough stored up."
Reid blinked again, his eyes and mouth watered, he was going to puke. He fought to roll over and by a small miracle got out from Hotch's grasp just in time to lean over and empty an already rather vacant stomach.
Hotch swallowed back hard.
"Nausea and vomitting aren't uncommon with alkalosis... Which can be caused by hyperpnea, specifically respiratory alkalosis...sis... Sick... I'm going to be..." he threw up again.
"EMTs are here now. We'll see you in the hour."
Fin.
There was a grueling rhythm, it set him on fire, he was being split in two thanks to the enhancement the unsub was using on him. Reid's chest felt tight as his ribs expanded and contracted even faster, he felt light headed, almost anesthetized by shock of this all, but the pools of blood told him he was hurt.
The others were so close, this shouldn't be happening, and yet it was. The hostage situation had devolved into two unsubs with guns pinned on three civilians and another with a hard on reaming him so bad he couldn't even scream anymore. Not like he had screamed, no, he just panted in air faster and faster, expelling it because he sure as fuck couldn't expel the cock up his ass, or it's companion flashlight.
They were in a storm room, the kind to protect employees during a tornado, yet it left him in a conundrum when SWAT had no real options of head shots... The pace sped up, the man was close, Reid was close to passing out.
"Brody, I am sick of this, I did not sign up for you to get your fucking kink on you bastard! Those are FEDS they are going to take it out on ALL of us if we don't get out NOW..."
Brody merely laughed, "They aren't going to do jack shit as long as I have him with me. In fact, I want you to let that Hotchner bastard give you a bullhorn, we'll negotiate while I finish this up."
"You're a son of a bitch, Brody... But as long as I get through this alive, I don't care anymore."
"Damn right you don't. These people deprived our brother the meds he needed to live. So what if we take a few of them down with us in his memory?" He thrust some more, angled himself more harshly then continued his thrusts. He laughed into Reid's ear, "If I knew this would have shut you up, I'd have done it an hour ago."
Reid's glorified response was a wheeze, his chest burned with fatigue, the impossibly hard pace had gone for twelve minutes and this bastard didn't seem any closer to losing his load and just finishing up. Was it wrong that he wanted that? Just for it to stop?
Then there was a rush of air, screams, gunshots and authoritative calls... Suddenly he wasn't flat on his stomach, he was pulled to Brody's chest, his own pistol at his jaw. Brody thrusted twice more to finish his own race as blood and semen dripped down his thigh. Upright made his head even lighter, and yet simultaneously so heavy. His eyes were clouded over as he saw Hotch and Morgan look at him in sheer horror, he couldn't stop hyperventilating, he really hadn't expected it to be Rossi to take the shot, but he was good.
The arm that pinned him back suddenly went lax as Rossi's kill shot sent the man to the floor hard, unresponsive. Somehow, Reid kicked his own gun from the man's loose grip before he pitched forward. He felt too faint to be upright, hs brain needed oxygen, and conversely more carbon dioxide than it had. Carbon dioxide keeps blood and bodily functions regulated, mainly it prevents alkalosis of the blood. By the way his hands were twitching he'd say he was in respiratory alkalosis if he could venture the syllables. Sure the cramps were there, but even that felt detached.
A jacket draped his hips, it felt strangely cold even though it had come off of a body.
"Reid, you have to hold your breath..." Hotch ordered, he eyed the room for something, anything that he could use to stop the hyperventilation. Rossi, again with the winning hand, tossed over a paper sack. Apparently he did get to finish off his own lunch on the way over.
The bag was over his mouth and nose while Morgan secured the injured unsubs and cuffed them. By the looks of it, only one of the three would survive the ordeal, one was already dead... He applied pressure to the unsub who had opened the door's shoulder. The floor was already slicked red. The hostages had fled the room to awaiting rescuers, they were already cordoned off to be interviewed later, but no one knew how Reid had gotten into this predicament.
Reid grabbed Hotch by the wrist, his own breathing seemed to calm down now, but the blood around him was still ever-growing.
"Hos...hosp..."
"EMTs are coming up now. Reid what did he DO to you?!"
Reid touched Hotch's shoulder limply, "Where're my pants...?"
"In that corner..." Hotch reached for them, he took hold of Reid's service piece and holstered it. The shiner Reid had was impressively dark for only an hour and a half. The stand off had been that short, the unsubs had tried to flee after initial shots fired warnings were sent out, the spree killers apparently not planning for the death by cop, yet here they were now.
Morgan swore, "Damn it! I lost him." Two of the three unsubs, three brothers, were now dead. The third just kept looking at them expectantly, he couldn't have been older than 16.
He was only sixteen but accountable for more than twenty shooting deaths.
Reid tried to sit up, Hotch pinned his shoulder to the floor. "Stay down, Spencer."
Reid blinked in response. "I'm putting in my request for PTO in now... I think I should get the rest of this week off..."
Hotch let out a soft laugh, "So that's your master plan to get Thanksgiving week off, huh? I'd have given you the time off if you just asked. You have more than enough stored up."
Reid blinked again, his eyes and mouth watered, he was going to puke. He fought to roll over and by a small miracle got out from Hotch's grasp just in time to lean over and empty an already rather vacant stomach.
Hotch swallowed back hard.
"Nausea and vomitting aren't uncommon with alkalosis... Which can be caused by hyperpnea, specifically respiratory alkalosis...sis... Sick... I'm going to be..." he threw up again.
"EMTs are here now. We'll see you in the hour."
Fin.