A/N: This is part of the series, but is down the road a little from RSVP Killer, I'll back fill soon, but please just enjoy it for now. Reviews would be excellent. And to my faithful readers, thank you. More to come soon.
Mile High Club
It had been one of those sorts of cases, the kind that felt too close, too real, and too impossible to cope from by simply rereading Jane Eyre that three extra times before the plane lands for Reid to just sit there patiently and will the thoughts down. So, staring out the window, fidgeting and otherwise making it obvious to his lover across the way that he was miserable was the only truly effective thing he could think of to force Hotch, in a passive-aggressive way at least, into doing or saying something to counteract the motion picture of the last victim before her blood splattered over him and she fell to the ground dead.
It was horrible, they had tracked down the unsub to the location to where he was bringing his victims, killing his victims… and the profile said he wouldn't stop even if cornered, especially if cornered… but that didn't stop Reid from having to try. What else could he do? He didn't have a shot, and he had enough memories of being shot that he knew he didn't want to provoke the unsub to target him instead. He did it anyway, he hoped the unsub would focus on him and give him the chance to make a clear shot… but it didn't work. The unsub shot the victim through the back, the bullet exploding into fragments in her heart before shards of it and a spray of blood exited the front of her chest. The high velocity droplets had sprayed Reid in the face and over his sleeves and Kevlar vest, pants too… before the second round entered her skull, making sure she'd stay dead. Now, with the victim disposed of, Reid was left one-on-one with a man who shot a woman twice in front of him and he had to take the shot or experience getting shot again.
That was the thought, that he'd die along side some woman he'd only seen in photos before two minutes ago, and Reid emptied his clip into the unsub. At first he tried for non-fatal shots, but the bastard just kept trying to raise his arm, so after a shot to the arm did nothing, two shots to the leg and one to the shoulder, he put the bullet in between his eyes, just like he had done with Dowd. That dropped the man, finally.
Morgan had peeled the gun from his shaking hands before Reid just walked to the Tahoe and sat down firmly, a sheath of ice coated him along with victim 7's blood splatter.
He remembered that stillness in stark contrast to his now fidgeting self as he looked out the window of the jet, then to his boss and lover, then back out the window, then down the aisle toward the coffee. Hotch wasn't making his move, so Reid decided now would be the time to get coffee. He scrubbed at his wrist, he could have sworn he just saw a fleck of blood still staining his creamy skin and he really didn't want to think about it.
"Is he…?" Morgan mentioned, sitting next to Hotch as he thumbed toward Reid's retreating form, "I mean, what he saw I'd be shaken up too, but… how is he holding up?"
"I'm going to go have a talk with him. I think it would be best if we were left with some privacy." Hotch explains as he straightens his tie, making sure his 'boss' face is perfect. Rossi snorts to Prentiss under his breath but says nothing. He doesn't need to. She knows the subtext of 'talking to' as much as Rossi does. In fact, they had used that code-word no less than three separate times in the field. Never on the jet though, she reflected.
After all, SSA Emily Prentiss was NOT the sort of girl to join the mile high club.
Morgan seems oblivious to this, as does JJ as they both just seem to honestly think Hotch is going to talk to Reid. While everyone on the team either had suspicions about the two, or proof… which Rossi supposed after doing the job for this many years, that he'd better, the others just didn't seem to think Reid could have the same needs as another normal person would.
There's a brief conversation in front of the coffee pot, that if you strained you could hear parts of, but no one was willing to admit that they did in fact strain to hear Reid say, "I still have her blood on me… even though I changed and took a shower, I swear I missed some…"
Hotch says something, the others can't hear it, his voice isn't piqued with emotion, it's steady, calm, quiet. Now the two are moving, further back. To Rossi's assumption, they're headed to the bathroom. And the consensus from the peanut-gallery is that Hotch is helping Reid get the blood specks off. Rossi doubts it, but it's not his place to correct them. Hotch deserves his claims to youthful indiscretions, even if he is getting a bit old for them.
Rossi wondered what that made him, he squeezed Prentiss's shoulder and muttered something about, "What it's like to be young…" somehow Morgan read that as a comment about Reid's own naivety, thus confirming the smooth talker was off his edge thanks to a certain techie calming his own raging fires.
Had Morgan been single for the long-hall, he probably would have come up with the same thoughts about MHC as Rossi, if only for sheer envy, but his own happiness was muting him to those wild thoughts, only the ones he didn't think Garcia'd go for, of course. Rossi was sure Morgan was still animalistic in his love-life. He didn't need to think about that though, and honestly he didn't want to.
Reid looked at Hotch through the mirror in the bathroom, both turned to face the same wall, Reid could only make indirect eye-contact. The words that came from Hotch's lips weren't the kind of 'talking to' that Morgan would suspect, but Reid knew they were the words he was longing to hear.
"Drop your pants."
Reid gulped but did as he was instructed. He wanted to forget, and there were few things in the world that let a person with an eidetic memory do that, one was dilaudid. That was on the list of things not to resort to. The other was unadulterated sex, mind-blowing sex was fine by Reid, even if it was on company property with his boss. At the moment, he didn't care enough to protest it. After what he had just seen and done… he couldn't bring himself to care.
The pants dropped to his ankles and he stepped out of the legs of each, toeing off his shoes to leave his orange solid print right sock to compliment his blue and white striped left sock nicely. Hotch placed Reid's hands on the counter of the sink whispering a carnal, "Brace yourself."
Reid let off a shaky head-nod to confirm his willingness and readiness. Hotch slipped Reid's underwear down, slowly, careful to make sure his hand raked over the younger man's groin before bringing the fabric to the floor in a pile. Reid was growing into it, hot breath against the back of his neck, Hotch was making sure all of this was dedicated to him. All of his attention surrounded Reid, Reid was sandwiched by Hotch thanks to the reflection. He hoped Reid realized just why he was doing that, he wasn't one to normally watch himself fuck his lover in front of a mirror. That kind of narcissism wasn't engrained to be of any ego-boost or benefit to himself.
Hotch trailed his tongue over the back of Reid's neck, then used the tip of his tongue to flick Reid's ear, Reid let out a breath but kept it mute. His coworkers were right outside, he had to restrain himself. They had to be quick, and any damage done would have to be covered easily before they landed. That was the unspoken agenda that both had to be aware of.
Reid took in the sight of those brown eyes looking so deeply into him, they replaced the cold blue eyes of the man he had just shot down, and that of the green eyes of the victim as she was extinguished. No, those eyes were gone, Hotch's were here. He left those eyes behind in Houston, these eyes were driving him now. Driving him to focus on one thing only- this moment. Hotch. Hotch and him in this moment in the bathroom stall of the jet as Hotch's right hand lubricated itself with hand lotion someone left in there, probably JJ but that didn't matter. It didn't even matter that Reid could smell 'apple pie' like the lotion promised, it didn't even matter if JJ would smell that when they left, he didn't care. He couldn't care.
Hotch was stretching him now, two fingers went in easily, as they should, they had had sex the night before, that was a glorious experience, before the dead bodies could stare at Reid, it was just he and Hotch in the hotel for half an hour before he grabbed his shower and Hotch took the one after him, Hotch had thankfully returned to his own room to grab a toothbrush he had clumsily forgotten in his own go-bag when JJ had caught him, in his own room thankfully, with news of a new victim. Hotch had told her he'd get Reid and sent her to get Rossi, Morgan was already getting ready himself, and Prentiss, well he didn't know if JJ would find her where she was supposed to be or not, it wound up being at the restaurant-bar that the hotel had. All of their taboo relationships managed to not get exposed, not like one person didn't know who any of the others were with. JJ had Will and her son Henry, Morgan had Garcia who also had Kevin and an on-again off-again fling with when Morgan was too forgetful of her needs, Prentiss had Rossi, and Reid had Hotch.
For that glorious half hour before the dead bodies piled up, and now, even with the corpses looking through the mirror with Hotch, Hotch shielded him from their glares. Tobias and Adam off in the corners reminding him of the victims he left behind every time he was too slow or didn't move just right… even now, Gideon and Sarah… Foyet… Haley… he lowed his head into the counter and whimpered, he couldn't stand to look at himself in that mirror, even if Hotch was right there with him!
Hotch pulled out his fingers and slipped himself in, Reid's head shot up, his mouth parted with a silenced moan that refused to form fully on his lips. He let the silence stutter out of him, Hotch felt so good, too good, how did he deserve this? After all the things he'd done to mess up, how could he earn Hotch in that mirror looking at him? How was it that Hotch looked in that mirror and didn't see the pile of corpses or regrets, Reid looked in the mirror wondering why he saw it but Hotch didn't… and then he saw what was in that reflection. Him. Him and Hotch, and the motions of two bodies as Hotch pounded into him slowly at first. He was starting to build speed, and Reid was struggling to keep his guttural callings mute. He let out a gentle, "Ahh," under breath. His knuckles were white on the counter.
Hotch's hands were positioned on Reid's hips, he was still in his suit, though his pants were lowered to his thighs along with his boxer-briefs as he continued to thrust against Reid. One hand was now snaking around though, his right hand, still soft from the lotion he had used to prep Reid with, curled around his erection, the velvety softness made Reid realize they'd have to buy that brand of lotion from now on.
Now he was pumping and thrusting, Reid's mind was bathed in white as it went blank. All he thought were feelings, not only physical ones but that enveloping white was infecting him with a sense of all-encompassing love and warmth. His body rocked with Hotch's as the thrusts and pumps moved faster, the name and words on his lips were whispered now, in a near silent plea for this moment not to be over just yet, the reflection was returning again, every time Hotch hit Reid's prostate there was an explosion of fireworks and blinding whiteness that made it unclear but each time he pulled back the reflection was there again. Each time getting more and more hazy, distant, as Hotch finished his ministrations he was looking at the top of Hotch's head, Hotch's forehead planted on his shoulder with whispers of "I love you Spencer…"
He looked at that image fondly before he could realize that there were only two people in that image now, and he wasn't wearing anyone's blood. The red in his cheeks were blush, he had just fucked his boss on an FBI-issued jet on their way back to the office. Oh and how crimson his cheeks went. He leaned his neck back, Hotch planted kissed along the exposed skin.
"I love you." Reid turned his face toward Hotch's hairline and kissed him, careful not to let Hotch out of him just yet, he slowly turned at the waist, using his hands to lock onto the sides of Hotch's head, he guided him to meet Reid's lips.
Hotch happily swallowed Reid's moans. More and more were coming, which meant the mission was a success, he was still pumping Reid, he still hadn't shot his load, himself still semi-hard and mounting Reid he pumped Reid two-fold the angle must have been awkward for Reid but the other said nothing to that effect. Soon though, he felt Reid spin around, Oh, he must almost be there. That was the thought that struck Hotch at the sight, he increased the speed of his hand movements and suddenly he was grasping something wet and warm, sticky. Reid slumped forward, Hotch's left arm kept him from landing in his own cum in the sink.
After a few moments to gracefully recover, Hotch started to 'process the evidence' and then dispose of it. Rinsing the sink out, waiting for Reid to rinse himself out and off before he pulled his pants and underwear back on, Hotch adjusted his own pants and affixed his belt. Reid scrubbed his face in cold water hoping it would wipe away that smug just-sexed-up look off his face. It didn't, but the haggard look was still there, it had been a long night and nothing was going to take that off him even if he did just have great sex.
"We're never doing this again…" Reid mentioned, meekly. Now as it was dawning upon him, he was sensitive to the taboo he had just committed, "But… that was amazing."
"Yeah. I needed that." Hotch admitted, Reid turned his head, shocked. Reid could easily see why he had needed it, but why Hotch had, well that baffled him. "Seeing you like that, today, it scared me. I thought you were hurt… before I could really read the scene… I mean, what happened was awful, but it could've been worse…"
"Not much worse…" Reid let out, his mind processing it again, "I watched a woman die in front of me because I didn't have a shot and then I killed a man. I feel like if I had been shot, I'd be vindicated somehow, I mean, don't get me wrong I don't ever want to get shot again- EVER, but, you know… I'm going to stop talking now."
"I understand how you feel, but I'd feel horrible if you were hurt, Reid. The scenario that played out was bad enough, I'm just thankful that of the two people who died there, one of them was the unsub. I don't think I'd have been able to take you being hurt again, or worse."
"Hey… hey, I'm, look at me, I'm here, I'm alive, I don't have a scratch on me…" He paused, reached to his hip, pulled up his shirt corner, "Okay, I lied… I do have a scratch on me, but that was your fault so you can't complain about it." He smiled, it was warm but tired, it was just right.
"When we get back tonight, I'm going to do more than put a scratch on you, I'm going to make sure you can't walk more than ten bow-legged paces to the bathroom until the morning."
Reid smiled, "I'd like that." He fixed his tie and hair, "But we should get out of here… the others… well, they might get more suspicious if we don't. Also, can we stop by the mall? I think we should get some of this lotion." He gestured to the bottle, Hotch nodded.
"Fine." He smiled coyly back to Reid, "I really do love you."
He paused to think, "Henry David Thoreau said that 'There is no remedy for love but to love more'. Until loving you, I didn't really understand that… but it's true, you know." He wrapped his arms around Hotch to hug him before breaking off the contact and nervously tugging at the corners of his shirt. He gave Hotch a glance over and finding both of them to be appropriately clad and the bathroom in working order, he exited and returned to the coffee pot.
Hotch sat down by where Reid had settled and awaited his subordinate's return, the air suddenly lighter than it had been before.