Just ask Google
Title : Just ask Google
Rating : NC-17
Summary : Written for Criminal Minds Kink Meme IV . The prompt was : Morgan/Reid. Reid has been in love with Morgan for years. Believing Morgan could never feel the same way, or even be interested in guys, Reid has been surrogating with casual sex with black men. He even has a profile on a gay site to find these encounters, including pics and video of his conquests. Though he's been careful not to show his face, when Morgan stumbles across his page... he wonders.
Notes : I’m not really a NC-17 writing person, but this prompt just made me write this.
Disclaimer : not mine, never wanted them to be
There’s no place like home, Morgan thought as he slowly lowered himself on his couch and began the endless search for the remote. God but he was exhausted. That was a long case that left him once again drained and wondering if it was worth it. But surely he loved his job a lot. His sisters even got that running joke about him never getting married because he was already married to his job. And maybe they were right, maybe it wasn’t meant for him to get married. But his job was only one of the reasons he didn’t see himself ever settled down with some woman.
After a few unsuccessful attempts to find the remote, Morgan gave up on watching television. He was too tired to stand up and switch the TV manually and even more tired to look for the remote somewhere else. So he settled for the next best thing - that being his laptop conveniently lying on the table, just a hand away. He didn’t even have to stand up to get it.
Ten minutes of internet surfing later and Derek Morgan once again found himself bored. There was simply nothing interesting out there for him to look at. He really didn’t get it how people could spend hours, even days on the web, living their online lives. Didn’t they realize that the real world was not inside of the computer? Morgan smiled at that thought and made a note to himself to never say that to Garcia. Or he may never hear the end of it.
Just as he was starting his second game of online poker, Clooney, his fat, yet somehow adorable dog (as Garcia has once put it so nicely) jumped on the couch and settled at the free space next to his master.
“You big weirdo.” Morgan said affectionately, patting the dog. “You should work out more. Look at me, how someone like me can have such a fat dog… And awesome, I am praising myself to a dog. I so need to get laid.” Morgan announced and then laughed. Great, he was talking to himself now.
As if he was offended by his master’s comment, Clooney decided to give a payback. And what a better payback to a man, who hasn’t gotten laid in so long? Lie down and lick his own balls of course. Morgan watched somewhat impressed how his fat dog lied down comfortably and began the process. A few moments later however, he shook his head disgusted and gently kicked the dog from the couch.
“Okay, you weirdo, that’s not cool.” Derek shook his head as if trying to delete the image from his head. Why do dogs do it anyways? And why people can’t? That would be so much easier for everyone if man could give themselves blowjobs. Think about all of the sexual crimes that could be prevented if a man could only… Once again disgusted with himself Derek jumped from the couch and headed straight to the bathroom. A shower would be nice right about now.
Forty five minutes, one long shower and a couple of beers later, Morgan found himself once again in front of the laptop. Thank god for Google. Google sure knows everything.
So, the brilliant, slightly drunk profiler that he was, Derek simply typed “why do dogs lick their balls” into the search engine and waited for the result. Mesmerized by the results, Morgan went on searching, until somehow, he stumbled upon a graphic site that had more to do with licking and balls than dogs.
But by the time he realized that he was looking at a gay site, Derek Morgan was already far too drunk and far too horny to stop.
Fascinated with the pictures and the things he read, Morgan couldn’t stop clicking at different links and photos. Sure he wasn’t gay. He was just curious. So what if he found the naked, sweaty men on the pictures hot? What if he had such a hard on, that he could easily come just by slightly stroking himself? No, he wasn’t gay.
At some point in his exploring, Derek found himself looking at what looked like some guys blog. And boy was that guy a slut for black men, Morgan thought smirking as he skimmed through the blog and read the entries. The mystery guy seemed to be keeping track of his conquests and was explicitly describing every one of them, backing his stories up with pictures and videos. But the sex part aside, the guys seemed to be very well educated and talented. His entries seemed so real and even poetic, that despite being a total pornography, Morgan couldn’t help but appreciate the stories. Especially those that preceded every sexual encounter. As if the guy needed a reason to justify his whoring around.
“Today, once again I found myself at a dark place.” The mystery guy wrote. “M. ignored me completely. Even made fun of me a few times. And I can’t blame him, I made a full of myself once again, by trying to impress him with all of the random things I know. But can you blame ME? If only he knew that I get so nervous around him, that my mind blacks out completely. That I don’t want to talk work or statistics with him, but I want to take him to my place, get his big black cock in my mouth and then, after some time of pleasuring him, let him fuck me. Row and rough, for I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt so that I won’t be able to sit for a long time after that. For maybe that pain would be the only thing I’ll have left, after he realizes that he made a mistake.”
Morgan swallowed hard. He felt sorry for this guy. And angry at the other one, the one that the author called M. How can he not know that there was someone so desperate for his attention? And what was wrong with the writer, if he thought that it was normal for the subject of his affection to make fun of him? It was never normal.
“Got the nerve to ask M. out today. Not on a date, no, I’m not that brave. But on a casual movie night. Friends/coworkers style. As you can imagine he laughed at my face. Called me a nerd. Or was it a geek? Or weirdo? Who knows… And does it really matter? I really am all that. But most of all, I am a loser who is in love with the most amazing guy in the world. I guess it’s not meant to be. Jean de la Fontaine said that Sadness flies away on the wings of time. I don’t know about that. How much time will pass until I am able to get over M.? It’s been almost seven years…”
Holly shit, this guy was in love with M. for seven years? That was so not okay. Morgan got angrier by the minute. No one should be treated that badly. That M. guy mast be a real piece of work if he couldn’t appreciate someone so talented as the writer. And the writer seemed to using sex with random black men as a substitution for this M. There were pictures and videos of him getting fucked by big, athletic black guys who apparently had a fetish for a skinny, yet attractive white boys. The faces were all blurred, so Morgan couldn’t see who these people were, but the bodies spoke enough.
Morgan was always disgusted by gay sex. Or so he used to tell himself. It was simply unnatural and overall, gross. Yet, he stared at the pictures and videos which showed explicitly how the writer’s lean white ass got penetrated by slick black dicks. There were those videos that showed him whirling in pleasure and pain as the other guy fucked him row into the mattress. There was no sound, as if the writer was afraid that someone might recognize his voice, but Morgan could picture him clearly moaning and begging for more, repeating M.’s name over and over again until he couldn’t breathe anymore, until he was so fucked that he black out.
Morgan refreshed the page and saw that the writer has just posted a new entry.
“Walking, working, barely breathing
My thoughts, far away
Heart aching, mind racing
Sleep does not come easily, nor last long...
Peter Winstanley
I had some doubts for a while now, but I’m ready now. I’ll take Jim, Sam and Jeff on their offer. Maybe it’ll hurt just enough, so that I can finally focus on something else. I’ll post an update later. Or not…”
Morgan closed his eyes and pictured him fucking the skinny writer. Hard and raw, until the boy came with his name on his lips: Mmmmorgan. Just like that Morgan came. He wiped his hand on his pants and closed his eyes once again, succumbing to a blissful post-orgasmic bliss.
Yet, there was nothing peaceful about his dreams. He saw the writer, typing on his laptop, sitting in a dark room. All Morgan could see was the writer’s back, so he walked closer to him and whispered “Why are you doing this kid?”
As the guy slowly turned around, Morgan finally saw his face. “What do you think, Morgan?” Spencer Reid said quietly, staring at him with wide yet calm eyes.
Morgan woke up with a jolt. Oh God no. What had he done? And could he fix it, before it was too late?
Notes : Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated
Rating : NC-17
Summary : Written for Criminal Minds Kink Meme IV . The prompt was : Morgan/Reid. Reid has been in love with Morgan for years. Believing Morgan could never feel the same way, or even be interested in guys, Reid has been surrogating with casual sex with black men. He even has a profile on a gay site to find these encounters, including pics and video of his conquests. Though he's been careful not to show his face, when Morgan stumbles across his page... he wonders.
Notes : I’m not really a NC-17 writing person, but this prompt just made me write this.
Disclaimer : not mine, never wanted them to be
There’s no place like home, Morgan thought as he slowly lowered himself on his couch and began the endless search for the remote. God but he was exhausted. That was a long case that left him once again drained and wondering if it was worth it. But surely he loved his job a lot. His sisters even got that running joke about him never getting married because he was already married to his job. And maybe they were right, maybe it wasn’t meant for him to get married. But his job was only one of the reasons he didn’t see himself ever settled down with some woman.
After a few unsuccessful attempts to find the remote, Morgan gave up on watching television. He was too tired to stand up and switch the TV manually and even more tired to look for the remote somewhere else. So he settled for the next best thing - that being his laptop conveniently lying on the table, just a hand away. He didn’t even have to stand up to get it.
Ten minutes of internet surfing later and Derek Morgan once again found himself bored. There was simply nothing interesting out there for him to look at. He really didn’t get it how people could spend hours, even days on the web, living their online lives. Didn’t they realize that the real world was not inside of the computer? Morgan smiled at that thought and made a note to himself to never say that to Garcia. Or he may never hear the end of it.
Just as he was starting his second game of online poker, Clooney, his fat, yet somehow adorable dog (as Garcia has once put it so nicely) jumped on the couch and settled at the free space next to his master.
“You big weirdo.” Morgan said affectionately, patting the dog. “You should work out more. Look at me, how someone like me can have such a fat dog… And awesome, I am praising myself to a dog. I so need to get laid.” Morgan announced and then laughed. Great, he was talking to himself now.
As if he was offended by his master’s comment, Clooney decided to give a payback. And what a better payback to a man, who hasn’t gotten laid in so long? Lie down and lick his own balls of course. Morgan watched somewhat impressed how his fat dog lied down comfortably and began the process. A few moments later however, he shook his head disgusted and gently kicked the dog from the couch.
“Okay, you weirdo, that’s not cool.” Derek shook his head as if trying to delete the image from his head. Why do dogs do it anyways? And why people can’t? That would be so much easier for everyone if man could give themselves blowjobs. Think about all of the sexual crimes that could be prevented if a man could only… Once again disgusted with himself Derek jumped from the couch and headed straight to the bathroom. A shower would be nice right about now.
Forty five minutes, one long shower and a couple of beers later, Morgan found himself once again in front of the laptop. Thank god for Google. Google sure knows everything.
So, the brilliant, slightly drunk profiler that he was, Derek simply typed “why do dogs lick their balls” into the search engine and waited for the result. Mesmerized by the results, Morgan went on searching, until somehow, he stumbled upon a graphic site that had more to do with licking and balls than dogs.
But by the time he realized that he was looking at a gay site, Derek Morgan was already far too drunk and far too horny to stop.
Fascinated with the pictures and the things he read, Morgan couldn’t stop clicking at different links and photos. Sure he wasn’t gay. He was just curious. So what if he found the naked, sweaty men on the pictures hot? What if he had such a hard on, that he could easily come just by slightly stroking himself? No, he wasn’t gay.
At some point in his exploring, Derek found himself looking at what looked like some guys blog. And boy was that guy a slut for black men, Morgan thought smirking as he skimmed through the blog and read the entries. The mystery guy seemed to be keeping track of his conquests and was explicitly describing every one of them, backing his stories up with pictures and videos. But the sex part aside, the guys seemed to be very well educated and talented. His entries seemed so real and even poetic, that despite being a total pornography, Morgan couldn’t help but appreciate the stories. Especially those that preceded every sexual encounter. As if the guy needed a reason to justify his whoring around.
“Today, once again I found myself at a dark place.” The mystery guy wrote. “M. ignored me completely. Even made fun of me a few times. And I can’t blame him, I made a full of myself once again, by trying to impress him with all of the random things I know. But can you blame ME? If only he knew that I get so nervous around him, that my mind blacks out completely. That I don’t want to talk work or statistics with him, but I want to take him to my place, get his big black cock in my mouth and then, after some time of pleasuring him, let him fuck me. Row and rough, for I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt so that I won’t be able to sit for a long time after that. For maybe that pain would be the only thing I’ll have left, after he realizes that he made a mistake.”
Morgan swallowed hard. He felt sorry for this guy. And angry at the other one, the one that the author called M. How can he not know that there was someone so desperate for his attention? And what was wrong with the writer, if he thought that it was normal for the subject of his affection to make fun of him? It was never normal.
“Got the nerve to ask M. out today. Not on a date, no, I’m not that brave. But on a casual movie night. Friends/coworkers style. As you can imagine he laughed at my face. Called me a nerd. Or was it a geek? Or weirdo? Who knows… And does it really matter? I really am all that. But most of all, I am a loser who is in love with the most amazing guy in the world. I guess it’s not meant to be. Jean de la Fontaine said that Sadness flies away on the wings of time. I don’t know about that. How much time will pass until I am able to get over M.? It’s been almost seven years…”
Holly shit, this guy was in love with M. for seven years? That was so not okay. Morgan got angrier by the minute. No one should be treated that badly. That M. guy mast be a real piece of work if he couldn’t appreciate someone so talented as the writer. And the writer seemed to using sex with random black men as a substitution for this M. There were pictures and videos of him getting fucked by big, athletic black guys who apparently had a fetish for a skinny, yet attractive white boys. The faces were all blurred, so Morgan couldn’t see who these people were, but the bodies spoke enough.
Morgan was always disgusted by gay sex. Or so he used to tell himself. It was simply unnatural and overall, gross. Yet, he stared at the pictures and videos which showed explicitly how the writer’s lean white ass got penetrated by slick black dicks. There were those videos that showed him whirling in pleasure and pain as the other guy fucked him row into the mattress. There was no sound, as if the writer was afraid that someone might recognize his voice, but Morgan could picture him clearly moaning and begging for more, repeating M.’s name over and over again until he couldn’t breathe anymore, until he was so fucked that he black out.
Morgan refreshed the page and saw that the writer has just posted a new entry.
“Walking, working, barely breathing
My thoughts, far away
Heart aching, mind racing
Sleep does not come easily, nor last long...
Peter Winstanley
I had some doubts for a while now, but I’m ready now. I’ll take Jim, Sam and Jeff on their offer. Maybe it’ll hurt just enough, so that I can finally focus on something else. I’ll post an update later. Or not…”
Morgan closed his eyes and pictured him fucking the skinny writer. Hard and raw, until the boy came with his name on his lips: Mmmmorgan. Just like that Morgan came. He wiped his hand on his pants and closed his eyes once again, succumbing to a blissful post-orgasmic bliss.
Yet, there was nothing peaceful about his dreams. He saw the writer, typing on his laptop, sitting in a dark room. All Morgan could see was the writer’s back, so he walked closer to him and whispered “Why are you doing this kid?”
As the guy slowly turned around, Morgan finally saw his face. “What do you think, Morgan?” Spencer Reid said quietly, staring at him with wide yet calm eyes.
Morgan woke up with a jolt. Oh God no. What had he done? And could he fix it, before it was too late?
Notes : Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated