Fic: Yesterdays Keep Passing By
Yesterdays Keep Passing By - Criminal Minds - Morgan/Reid - Words: 2,077
Summary: Derek never thought he'd be that man.
Content Notes: Reference to and brief description of non-consensual sex between an adult and a minor. Blood. R.
On AO3: Yesterdays Keep Passing By
On DW: Yesterdays Keep Passing By
Written for CM_Kink Meme. Prompt: Established Morgan and Reid. One frantic night they're so rough (go too fast, don't use enough lube) that Reid ends up bleeding a little. He's not too bothered, but Morgan is absolutely horrified and disgusted with himself. Cue Reid trying to comfort Morgan. Originally posted here: http://cm-kink.livejournal.com/842.html?thread=36170#t36170
*****
Derek dropped down onto Spencer's bed, lost somewhere between exhausted and completely satiated. It took him a full minute, his heart still hammering in his chest and his breathing starting to slow, before he had enough energy to roll his head to the side and look at where Spencer was still sprawled out. Spencer's hair was a tangled mess spread in every direction, and Derek smiled as he remembered his hands wrapped up in it as he had pushed Spencer down into the bed and ground into him.
It had been a long case, they'd been out of town for nearly a full week, and it had been longer still since Derek had gotten to spend the night with Spencer or even stop for so much as a kiss. Spencer had held firm on his decision that they shouldn't do anything while they were away on cases, not even be in each other's hotel rooms, and while Derek agreed in principle it could still be frustrating. Derek wondered if telling Spencer that he was pretty sure Hotch, and the rest of the team for that matter, knew about their relationship, but he doubted that would actually help. If anything, it would probably elicit that same blush that Spencer had given when Derek had whispered that afternoon that he wanted him so bad that he was almost ready to just take him up to the conference room and lock the door behind them. Of course, Derek had whispered that mostly because he liked seeing Spencer blush and the small smile that usually accompanied it - not that how much he wanted Spencer wasn't true either.
Spencer shifted on the bed, his legs stretching out before he rolled onto his side and drew them up towards his chest. Derek recognized the position as a precursor to Spencer falling asleep, and knew that if they didn't get up soon, they'd both be awake around three in the morning when their stomachs reminded them that they'd skipped dinner in favor of stumbling straight to Spencer's bedroom. Derek hadn't really given them much of a choice on the matter though, kissing Spencer deeply and working his way down the front of Spencer's pants as soon as he'd shut and locked the front door.
Derek turned on the lamp, ready to shake Spencer all the way awake and get them both to shower before they went rummaging for something to eat. It was always a little hit or miss as to whether Spencer had food in his apartment or not, and Derek drew the line at calling for delivery when he smelled like he currently did. All thoughts of whether or not he could convince Spencer to go for Chinese for the second night in a row flew from his mind when he rolled over and noticed that the damp spot on the sheets wasn't just lube and semen, but there was the reddish tint of blood as well. He sat up, his eyes flickering from the spot to Spencer's backside and thighs, both of which were sticky with ejaculate and lube, and a streak of still wet blood.
Derek's breathing was uneven again as he stared, his mind going over everything they'd done since they'd walked through the front door. He'd been impatient; their clothes were mostly scattered down the hallway as they'd pushed them off each other while stumbling along. He had pushed Spencer down onto the bed and crawled on top of him, and he could remember Spencer shifting under him and reaching with his long arms to grab the tube of lube from inside the nightstand drawer, and then pushing the tube into Derek's hands. Derek had barely bothered to cover himself with lube, wiping the excess inside of Spencer before he'd pushed in and started moving.
He had hurt Spencer, tore him and made him bleed. Derek felt sick, sicker than he had only a day ago when he'd been crouching down next to a corpse and trying to see exactly where they'd been stabbed to death. His hands weren't quite steady when he reached out, not sure how welcome his touch was going to be, but he had to see how badly he'd hurt Spencer. He rested his hand on Spencer's hip for a moment, Spencer's skin warm and the bone jutting out just underneath the surface, squeezing gently before he slipped his hand back to check how much blood there still was.
Spencer stirred at Derek's explorations. "The average male refractory period for a man you age should be at least twenty more minutes," he said, yawning immediately afterward.
Derek withdrew his hand, feeling even guiltier at the sight of blood on his fingertips. "You're bleeding." He watched blankly as Spencer rolled over and arched his back as he reached behind him, examining the blood with the same thoughtful expression as he did everything else.
Spencer wiggled experimentally. "I'm a little sore but I feel fine. Probably just a small tear, it will be better in a few days." He smiled, using his clean hand to push away some of the hair that was falling forward into his face. "It's a fairly common occurrence during anal sex, usually with beginners, though it's not like we really used a lot of lube or foreplay. I'm going to go get a washcloth, I'll be right back."
Derek watched as Spencer slid out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the faucet running following shortly after. Spencer had been calm, unconcerned even, but Derek had seen Spencer be calm when there were standing with an unsub with a gun only a few feet from them. Calm didn't mean anything; Derek could remember being calm, laying next to Carl Buford as the man slept.
Derek didn't want to close his eyes, because if he did he would remember Carl pressing him down into the bed. He would remember feeling like he was suffocating with Carl on top of him and the sting and the burn as he was entered roughly. Derek hadn't said anything, hadn't tried to push Carl off him, and when Carl had gone to sleep, Derek had stayed awake and wiped the blood away as best he could in the light from the moon that was filtering in through the cabin's window.
"Derek?" Spencer asked.
Derek opened his eyes, realizing that they'd somehow fallen shut and his hands were clenched tight in the sheets. From the look of concern Spencer was giving him, a damp washcloth still being offered, that hadn't been the first time he'd called his name.
"So you can clean up?" Spencer asked, holding the cloth out further.
Derek unclenched one of his hands long enough to accept the cloth, noting that it had been rinsed clean and was still warm. He rested the cloth on his thigh, wanting to look at Spencer, but not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He wanted to apologize, say that he was sorry, but sorry was a word that didn't mean nearly enough. There wasn't a way to apologize for what he'd just done.
Spencer sat down on the bed next to Derek, his expression and posture radiating more concern by the minute. "Are you alright?"
Derek knew why Spencer's question was tentative, knew that it was going against everything unspoken between them to even ask. Derek had been firm from the start of their relationship that he didn't want Spencer to treat him differently because of anything he knew about his past; he didn't want to be treated like a victim or a survivor. Spencer had never seen him have a flashback related to what had happened with Carl, and had never watched him go to the gym after a case that involved child molestation to take his rage out on a punching bag, and Derek never wanted him to. Derek had done his absolute best to make sure that he had dealt with his past, as much as it could ever be dealt with, and it wasn't something that haunted his thoughts everyday now and hadn't been for years.
He took a deep breath, concentrating on pushing the memories away so he could focus on the present. The sight of four red lines on Spencer's thigh, scratches from when Derek had pulled Spencer up against him, immediately derailed that process. The scratches weren't deep, weren't bleeding, and would probably fade in a few hours, but that didn't change what Derek had done.
"It's not an excuse, but I didn't mean to hurt you," Derek said, his chest feeling hollow.
Spencer's brow furrowed. "You didn't. Derek, it was just a little blood. All cleaned up now."
Derek shook his head. "I shouldn't have; I wasn't thinking." His apology, if that's what this was, sounded absolutely pathetic to his ears, just like all the other explanations and excuses that the unsubs they caught eventually used.
"We had rough sex, it was fun, something that I wouldn't mind doing more often," Spencer said, moving closer on the bed and taking the now chilled washcloth off of Derek's thigh. "There is nothing for you to feel guilty about."
Derek met Spencer's eyes, hating what he was about to say. "I never wanted to be like him."
Spencer stared back, frowning deeply. "Is that what you think?"
Derek nodded shortly and looked away, wanting nothing more than to grab his clothes and flee, but he wasn't a coward. He wouldn't walk away from what he'd done.
"Derek, I need you to answer two questions. Will you do that?" Spencer asked.
Derek nodded again, because he would do just about anything Spencer asked of him, regardless of how guilty he currently felt.
Spencer paused for a moment, they way he did when he was choosing his words carefully. "Do you trust that if you were hurting me, or doing something that I didn't want you to do, that I would tell you?"
It took longer than Derek liked to consider the question, thinking of all the times that Spencer had kept secrets and hidden things from the team. He could see the faded track marks still visible on Spencer's thin arms, though only because he knew where to look, and the memory of Spencer standing in front of an unsub without a vest and without a gun was almost always near the surface of his thoughts. "Yes," Derek finally said, because as much as Spencer did keep things hidden, he'd never known him to lie about things within their relationship.
"Good," Spencer said. "And if I told you to stop, or said that you were hurting me, would you stop?"
The question, coming from Spencer like it posed nothing more than a remote academic interest, felt like being punched in the stomach. "You know I would," Derek snapped, instinctively turning to Spencer almost hostilely.
"I do know that," Spencer agreed. "But do you?"
Derek stared, swallowing hard. "Sometimes people don't always say when they want someone to stop."
Spencer nodded. "Which is why I asked the first question, because I would tell you. But if you even thought that you were hurting me, or that I didn't want to have sex, or that I wasn't an active participant, would you stop?"
Derek nodded. "Yes, I would," he said, his voice thick in his throat.
"Then you are nothing like Carl Buford, so put all of that guilt and anger on him, where it belongs," Spencer said, leaning across him to dump the washcloth on the nightstand before moving so that he was sitting against Derek.
Derek took an unsteady breath and leaned in, putting one of his arms around Spencer's shoulder and letting himself be drawn into a tight embrace. He still felt sick, his stomach churning uncomfortably, but now it was the sickness that came from remembering instead of the sickness of self-loathing.
After a few minutes, Spencer moved so that his head was resting against Derek's. "Do we want to get dinner and shower? Or just go to bed?"
Derek thought about it, wanting to just curl up in bed with Spencer, but also still feeling sticky and unwashed. His stomach gurgled, letting them both know its thoughts on the matter. "Chinese?" he asked hopefully.
Spencer sighed. "Yes, Chinese. I'll call it in, you start the shower."
They both continued to sit, their warm skin pressed together, for another few minutes before they managed to pull themselves apart.
Summary: Derek never thought he'd be that man.
Content Notes: Reference to and brief description of non-consensual sex between an adult and a minor. Blood. R.
On AO3: Yesterdays Keep Passing By
On DW: Yesterdays Keep Passing By
Written for CM_Kink Meme. Prompt: Established Morgan and Reid. One frantic night they're so rough (go too fast, don't use enough lube) that Reid ends up bleeding a little. He's not too bothered, but Morgan is absolutely horrified and disgusted with himself. Cue Reid trying to comfort Morgan. Originally posted here: http://cm-kink.livejournal.com/842.html?thread=36170#t36170
*****
Derek dropped down onto Spencer's bed, lost somewhere between exhausted and completely satiated. It took him a full minute, his heart still hammering in his chest and his breathing starting to slow, before he had enough energy to roll his head to the side and look at where Spencer was still sprawled out. Spencer's hair was a tangled mess spread in every direction, and Derek smiled as he remembered his hands wrapped up in it as he had pushed Spencer down into the bed and ground into him.
It had been a long case, they'd been out of town for nearly a full week, and it had been longer still since Derek had gotten to spend the night with Spencer or even stop for so much as a kiss. Spencer had held firm on his decision that they shouldn't do anything while they were away on cases, not even be in each other's hotel rooms, and while Derek agreed in principle it could still be frustrating. Derek wondered if telling Spencer that he was pretty sure Hotch, and the rest of the team for that matter, knew about their relationship, but he doubted that would actually help. If anything, it would probably elicit that same blush that Spencer had given when Derek had whispered that afternoon that he wanted him so bad that he was almost ready to just take him up to the conference room and lock the door behind them. Of course, Derek had whispered that mostly because he liked seeing Spencer blush and the small smile that usually accompanied it - not that how much he wanted Spencer wasn't true either.
Spencer shifted on the bed, his legs stretching out before he rolled onto his side and drew them up towards his chest. Derek recognized the position as a precursor to Spencer falling asleep, and knew that if they didn't get up soon, they'd both be awake around three in the morning when their stomachs reminded them that they'd skipped dinner in favor of stumbling straight to Spencer's bedroom. Derek hadn't really given them much of a choice on the matter though, kissing Spencer deeply and working his way down the front of Spencer's pants as soon as he'd shut and locked the front door.
Derek turned on the lamp, ready to shake Spencer all the way awake and get them both to shower before they went rummaging for something to eat. It was always a little hit or miss as to whether Spencer had food in his apartment or not, and Derek drew the line at calling for delivery when he smelled like he currently did. All thoughts of whether or not he could convince Spencer to go for Chinese for the second night in a row flew from his mind when he rolled over and noticed that the damp spot on the sheets wasn't just lube and semen, but there was the reddish tint of blood as well. He sat up, his eyes flickering from the spot to Spencer's backside and thighs, both of which were sticky with ejaculate and lube, and a streak of still wet blood.
Derek's breathing was uneven again as he stared, his mind going over everything they'd done since they'd walked through the front door. He'd been impatient; their clothes were mostly scattered down the hallway as they'd pushed them off each other while stumbling along. He had pushed Spencer down onto the bed and crawled on top of him, and he could remember Spencer shifting under him and reaching with his long arms to grab the tube of lube from inside the nightstand drawer, and then pushing the tube into Derek's hands. Derek had barely bothered to cover himself with lube, wiping the excess inside of Spencer before he'd pushed in and started moving.
He had hurt Spencer, tore him and made him bleed. Derek felt sick, sicker than he had only a day ago when he'd been crouching down next to a corpse and trying to see exactly where they'd been stabbed to death. His hands weren't quite steady when he reached out, not sure how welcome his touch was going to be, but he had to see how badly he'd hurt Spencer. He rested his hand on Spencer's hip for a moment, Spencer's skin warm and the bone jutting out just underneath the surface, squeezing gently before he slipped his hand back to check how much blood there still was.
Spencer stirred at Derek's explorations. "The average male refractory period for a man you age should be at least twenty more minutes," he said, yawning immediately afterward.
Derek withdrew his hand, feeling even guiltier at the sight of blood on his fingertips. "You're bleeding." He watched blankly as Spencer rolled over and arched his back as he reached behind him, examining the blood with the same thoughtful expression as he did everything else.
Spencer wiggled experimentally. "I'm a little sore but I feel fine. Probably just a small tear, it will be better in a few days." He smiled, using his clean hand to push away some of the hair that was falling forward into his face. "It's a fairly common occurrence during anal sex, usually with beginners, though it's not like we really used a lot of lube or foreplay. I'm going to go get a washcloth, I'll be right back."
Derek watched as Spencer slid out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the faucet running following shortly after. Spencer had been calm, unconcerned even, but Derek had seen Spencer be calm when there were standing with an unsub with a gun only a few feet from them. Calm didn't mean anything; Derek could remember being calm, laying next to Carl Buford as the man slept.
Derek didn't want to close his eyes, because if he did he would remember Carl pressing him down into the bed. He would remember feeling like he was suffocating with Carl on top of him and the sting and the burn as he was entered roughly. Derek hadn't said anything, hadn't tried to push Carl off him, and when Carl had gone to sleep, Derek had stayed awake and wiped the blood away as best he could in the light from the moon that was filtering in through the cabin's window.
"Derek?" Spencer asked.
Derek opened his eyes, realizing that they'd somehow fallen shut and his hands were clenched tight in the sheets. From the look of concern Spencer was giving him, a damp washcloth still being offered, that hadn't been the first time he'd called his name.
"So you can clean up?" Spencer asked, holding the cloth out further.
Derek unclenched one of his hands long enough to accept the cloth, noting that it had been rinsed clean and was still warm. He rested the cloth on his thigh, wanting to look at Spencer, but not wanting to make him uncomfortable. He wanted to apologize, say that he was sorry, but sorry was a word that didn't mean nearly enough. There wasn't a way to apologize for what he'd just done.
Spencer sat down on the bed next to Derek, his expression and posture radiating more concern by the minute. "Are you alright?"
Derek knew why Spencer's question was tentative, knew that it was going against everything unspoken between them to even ask. Derek had been firm from the start of their relationship that he didn't want Spencer to treat him differently because of anything he knew about his past; he didn't want to be treated like a victim or a survivor. Spencer had never seen him have a flashback related to what had happened with Carl, and had never watched him go to the gym after a case that involved child molestation to take his rage out on a punching bag, and Derek never wanted him to. Derek had done his absolute best to make sure that he had dealt with his past, as much as it could ever be dealt with, and it wasn't something that haunted his thoughts everyday now and hadn't been for years.
He took a deep breath, concentrating on pushing the memories away so he could focus on the present. The sight of four red lines on Spencer's thigh, scratches from when Derek had pulled Spencer up against him, immediately derailed that process. The scratches weren't deep, weren't bleeding, and would probably fade in a few hours, but that didn't change what Derek had done.
"It's not an excuse, but I didn't mean to hurt you," Derek said, his chest feeling hollow.
Spencer's brow furrowed. "You didn't. Derek, it was just a little blood. All cleaned up now."
Derek shook his head. "I shouldn't have; I wasn't thinking." His apology, if that's what this was, sounded absolutely pathetic to his ears, just like all the other explanations and excuses that the unsubs they caught eventually used.
"We had rough sex, it was fun, something that I wouldn't mind doing more often," Spencer said, moving closer on the bed and taking the now chilled washcloth off of Derek's thigh. "There is nothing for you to feel guilty about."
Derek met Spencer's eyes, hating what he was about to say. "I never wanted to be like him."
Spencer stared back, frowning deeply. "Is that what you think?"
Derek nodded shortly and looked away, wanting nothing more than to grab his clothes and flee, but he wasn't a coward. He wouldn't walk away from what he'd done.
"Derek, I need you to answer two questions. Will you do that?" Spencer asked.
Derek nodded again, because he would do just about anything Spencer asked of him, regardless of how guilty he currently felt.
Spencer paused for a moment, they way he did when he was choosing his words carefully. "Do you trust that if you were hurting me, or doing something that I didn't want you to do, that I would tell you?"
It took longer than Derek liked to consider the question, thinking of all the times that Spencer had kept secrets and hidden things from the team. He could see the faded track marks still visible on Spencer's thin arms, though only because he knew where to look, and the memory of Spencer standing in front of an unsub without a vest and without a gun was almost always near the surface of his thoughts. "Yes," Derek finally said, because as much as Spencer did keep things hidden, he'd never known him to lie about things within their relationship.
"Good," Spencer said. "And if I told you to stop, or said that you were hurting me, would you stop?"
The question, coming from Spencer like it posed nothing more than a remote academic interest, felt like being punched in the stomach. "You know I would," Derek snapped, instinctively turning to Spencer almost hostilely.
"I do know that," Spencer agreed. "But do you?"
Derek stared, swallowing hard. "Sometimes people don't always say when they want someone to stop."
Spencer nodded. "Which is why I asked the first question, because I would tell you. But if you even thought that you were hurting me, or that I didn't want to have sex, or that I wasn't an active participant, would you stop?"
Derek nodded. "Yes, I would," he said, his voice thick in his throat.
"Then you are nothing like Carl Buford, so put all of that guilt and anger on him, where it belongs," Spencer said, leaning across him to dump the washcloth on the nightstand before moving so that he was sitting against Derek.
Derek took an unsteady breath and leaned in, putting one of his arms around Spencer's shoulder and letting himself be drawn into a tight embrace. He still felt sick, his stomach churning uncomfortably, but now it was the sickness that came from remembering instead of the sickness of self-loathing.
After a few minutes, Spencer moved so that his head was resting against Derek's. "Do we want to get dinner and shower? Or just go to bed?"
Derek thought about it, wanting to just curl up in bed with Spencer, but also still feeling sticky and unwashed. His stomach gurgled, letting them both know its thoughts on the matter. "Chinese?" he asked hopefully.
Spencer sighed. "Yes, Chinese. I'll call it in, you start the shower."
They both continued to sit, their warm skin pressed together, for another few minutes before they managed to pull themselves apart.