CRIMINAL MINDS FIC, Morgan/Reid, NC17
title:the first stage of learning
pairing: Morgan/Reid
rating: NC/17 [and schmoop, to boot!]
summary: it’s the first time fic that you read and go, “oh man, no-ones first time was like that.” 471 words.
this is my first, more [not so] graphic foray into writing sex. it needs a lot of work, but I’m using Morgan&Reid to hone my, uh, ‘abilities’. if people like it, there could be two more parts? Feedback, concrit, all is welcome here.
cognitive
“I’ll show you,” Morgan breathes in the dwindling space between them; an arm around Reid’s back, comfort, an arm around his thigh and gently pushing up, covet. It sounds like may I, will you, please and thank you. It sounds like things he doesn’t know, not from Morgan, not like this, not like tonight. It changes, here. Reid’s learning something new.
“Yes,” is all that’s left; all his other words dropped and abandoned on the floor, a nervous, messy, trail from the front door to the bedroom [like their clothes]. Did you know - do you believe - have you heard - and now it’s time to let it go and let go and watch and see and have and be had.
“Relax,” Morgan directs, a soft and supple kiss at Reid’s jaw, just to seal it. No, Reid can’t, tenses, arches up and needs, feeling Morgan’s cock right there and so close but not enough. He sinks his fingernails and fingertips and frustration into Morgan’s shoulders and says “Please,” with so much weight it slams against the walls.
“Okay, Okay.” Morgan’s voice catches between amused and impatient, out of control, gloss of his lips painting Reid’s ear as he slowly moves in, slowly prepares Reid with rough yet careful words, gasping, “You can tell me to stop, tell me anything, I wanna make it good for you, okay?”
“Yes, yes, okay.” Reid bucks up, hard and damp and on the edge and Morgan makes contact, at last, head pushing in, further, just, and halting with Reid’s hiss. Morgan has him slick and open and ready, but nothing prepared him for this, no words, no teachings.
It’s every cell and vein and bone and hair moving at once; it’s a pain that hurts because you choose it, it’s every thing Reid’s ever known going up in smoke. “More,” he pleads, moving down as Morgan thrusts up, deeper, deepest and out and again, slow, and Reid’s just making sounds, unnamable, like their love making. He feels Morgan’s hand like second skin, feels Morgan’s heartbeat on his lips and arms and hips and cock. They’re one.
“Reid,” Morgan chants, over and over, like a mantra, a spell [under a spell], and Reid turns his head for a kiss that says yes because Morgan really means loveyouloveyouloveyou. It’s one, two, three more thrusts to the core, and they’re both spilling over, Morgan, Reid, never more than one step between them. They kiss through the last of it, the shakes, the disappointment it has to end and the reminder, no it doesn’t.
“Okay?” Morgan asks in whisper, disposing of the mess and sinking in, settling in, next to Reid for the night.
“Mmm,” Reid says, eyelids fluttering close and the image of them both burned inside him. It was his to learn. It’s his forever, now.
Morgan’s his.
pairing: Morgan/Reid
rating: NC/17 [and schmoop, to boot!]
summary: it’s the first time fic that you read and go, “oh man, no-ones first time was like that.” 471 words.
this is my first, more [not so] graphic foray into writing sex. it needs a lot of work, but I’m using Morgan&Reid to hone my, uh, ‘abilities’. if people like it, there could be two more parts? Feedback, concrit, all is welcome here.
cognitive
“I’ll show you,” Morgan breathes in the dwindling space between them; an arm around Reid’s back, comfort, an arm around his thigh and gently pushing up, covet. It sounds like may I, will you, please and thank you. It sounds like things he doesn’t know, not from Morgan, not like this, not like tonight. It changes, here. Reid’s learning something new.
“Yes,” is all that’s left; all his other words dropped and abandoned on the floor, a nervous, messy, trail from the front door to the bedroom [like their clothes]. Did you know - do you believe - have you heard - and now it’s time to let it go and let go and watch and see and have and be had.
“Relax,” Morgan directs, a soft and supple kiss at Reid’s jaw, just to seal it. No, Reid can’t, tenses, arches up and needs, feeling Morgan’s cock right there and so close but not enough. He sinks his fingernails and fingertips and frustration into Morgan’s shoulders and says “Please,” with so much weight it slams against the walls.
“Okay, Okay.” Morgan’s voice catches between amused and impatient, out of control, gloss of his lips painting Reid’s ear as he slowly moves in, slowly prepares Reid with rough yet careful words, gasping, “You can tell me to stop, tell me anything, I wanna make it good for you, okay?”
“Yes, yes, okay.” Reid bucks up, hard and damp and on the edge and Morgan makes contact, at last, head pushing in, further, just, and halting with Reid’s hiss. Morgan has him slick and open and ready, but nothing prepared him for this, no words, no teachings.
It’s every cell and vein and bone and hair moving at once; it’s a pain that hurts because you choose it, it’s every thing Reid’s ever known going up in smoke. “More,” he pleads, moving down as Morgan thrusts up, deeper, deepest and out and again, slow, and Reid’s just making sounds, unnamable, like their love making. He feels Morgan’s hand like second skin, feels Morgan’s heartbeat on his lips and arms and hips and cock. They’re one.
“Reid,” Morgan chants, over and over, like a mantra, a spell [under a spell], and Reid turns his head for a kiss that says yes because Morgan really means loveyouloveyouloveyou. It’s one, two, three more thrusts to the core, and they’re both spilling over, Morgan, Reid, never more than one step between them. They kiss through the last of it, the shakes, the disappointment it has to end and the reminder, no it doesn’t.
“Okay?” Morgan asks in whisper, disposing of the mess and sinking in, settling in, next to Reid for the night.
“Mmm,” Reid says, eyelids fluttering close and the image of them both burned inside him. It was his to learn. It’s his forever, now.
Morgan’s his.