It all started when the guard opened the door to Derek's cell and pushed his new cellmate in with a lewd comment about enjoying the 'fresh meat'. Well, no, that wasn't strictly true. It really all started billions of years ago when some little atoms looked at each other and said 'Hey, wouldn't it be swell if we all got together and had ourselves a big, banging bash?' If you want to get a little more specific, then perhaps it started for Derek when he hit his growth spurt and started to show the sort of potential that caught Carl Bufurd's attention. Or maybe it started when Derek couldn't take it anymore, and, while out of one of their 'camping trips', ended up taking a revolver out of the cabin's gun cabinet and proving to Carl with a little hands on demonstration that he was a good student and those lessons on how to shoot safely hadn't gone to waste. Even the arresting officer had commented on how neat and clean the single entry wound was.
But for the purposes of this particular story, it started with two men in a six by eight concrete room-one young and comely, the other youngish and scarred-sizing each other up.
Surviving was dependent on either claiming your territory and being able to back up that claim or not minding being someone's territory. It was something that Derek had learned quickly when he was eighteen and new and scared and too attractive for his own good. After Carl, there was no way he was ever going to just sit back and take it like a 'good boy' again. He'd fought back. Bulked up. Honed his defensive reflexes. Acquired, well, not friends or even allies really, but people who were afraid enough of him that they didn't try anything and were willing to help him go after the people who did.
The new kid-Spencer Reid-didn't look like he could manage to make it through a day at the Villa Loretta Home for Wayward Girls, much less an extended stay in a federal prison. He was slim, almost delicate despite his height. Pretty, really, with high, prominent cheekbones and a wide, sensual mouth and large, haunted eyes. When Derek frowned, he flinched, nearly dropping the small pile of personal belongings cradled in his arms. No, Derek decided, he was going to get eaten alive in here.
Unless...well, Derek didn't exactly like the idea of sharing a room with somebody's bitch, if for no other reason than that the young man looked like a crier. Breaking in periods could be hell, and Derek had enough trouble sleeping in this hell hole without having someone sniffling into his pillow an arm's length away from him. Derek gave Reid another considering look before folding his arms and glaring at him. "You ever laid a hand on a kid?"
Reid jerked with surprise, shook his head furiously, and exclaimed, "No!"
Reid's cheeks flushed with anger or embarrassment and he glared at him. "What? No, of course not."
"Okay, then," he said, dropping his arms and relaxing a little. His shock and disgust had been genuine enough that Derek would have had his answer even if he hadn't said anything. Reid blinked owlishly at him, startled by Derek's sudden change in demeanor.
"Okay? Okay what?" Derek sat in the cell's single chair and jerked his chin toward the bottom bunk. Reid looked at Derek, at the bed, and back at Derek before slowly sinking down on the thin mattress. He wet his lips-nervous habit, Derek decided-and arched an eyebrow, clearly trying to look unaffected despite his flushed cheeks and hunched shoulders. He wasn't managing very well, but Derek gave him points for trying.
"Here's the deal. I don't know what you did to get in here. Honestly, I don't care. But any one of the idiots in this place could take one look at you and be able to tell that you're not cut out for it. You do what I say? I'll keep them off your back." Derek gave him another once over, making certain that the kid saw him looking. "And off your ass."
Reid clenched his hands in his lap and frowned at Derek. "Why should I trust you?"
Derek grinned widely. "You shouldn't. But believe me when I tell you that out of all the evils in this place? I'm pretty low on the list as long as I'm on your side. Understand?"
"Yeah. Yes. I...I understand." Reid ducked his head and swallowed audibly, his eyes cutting to the side. "What exactly did you want me to do?"
As it turned out, 'do what I say' basically boiled down to keeping his mouth shut and acting more like Morgan's personal assistant than performing any of the tasks that Spencer had always associated with being someone's 'bitch'. In fact, Morgan barely even looked at him. The one time they'd accidentally touched, he'd pulled away like he'd been burned. The longer Spencer stayed by his side, and he was at his side constantly, the more he realized that that was the way Morgan was with everyone. He didn't really interact with more than a handful of the other prisoners, and even they kept their distance. He wasn't openly hostile, but he exuded a definite 'don't fuck with me' vibe that most of the other inmates seemed to respect. And as long as Spencer was with him, while some of the other men might watch him just a little too long or intently, they kept their distance.
Well, most of the other men. According to Tobias Hankel, he had been sentenced for 'visiting justice on the heads of the unworthy'. According to Morgan, the man was one sick fucker. Either way, he was a little too interested in Spencer for comfort. For the most part he just tried to stay out of the other man's way, but there really wasn't any way to avoid him altogether.
Spencer had been fairly lucky for the most part-being put in a cell with Morgan was probably the best thing that could have happened for him-but it couldn't last forever. He was wandering through the stacks in the prison library while Morgan was having a meeting with his lawyer when Hankel finally managed to corner him.
Spencer was leaning over to pick up a book he had fumbled when a sharp kick to his lower back sent him sprawling to the floor. He bit back a groan and started to push himself up, but Hankel had other ideas and kicked him in the gut instead. Spencer curled in on himself, trying to make as small a target as possible, but Hankel just reached down, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and roughly yanked him to his feet. A small whimper of pain slipped from between Spencer's lips. Hankel fixed him with a deranged grin that looked out of place on his youthful face.
"What's the matter," he asked as he ran a hand up Spencer's thigh with a leer. "You're acting like you don't like me."
Spencer shuddered and tried to glare at the stronger man. "You won't do anything to me. Morgan will kill you if you do."
Hankel gave him a long, penetrating look, then started laughing loudly. "Morgan won't give a shit about what I do to you! You're nothing to him," he sneered. "Besides, do you really think that I'd play with someone else's property? Why, Reid, that would be like stealing. And stealing is a sin. That would be just wrong," he said, punctuating the sentence with a small tap on Spencer's nose. He pressed Spencer back against the stacks and leaned into him. "But there's nothing wrong with a little innocent fun between you and me."
Spencer screwed his eyes shut and turned his face away when Hankel's breath washed over his face. He was considering how good his chances would be if he fought back when the oppressive weight of Hankel on top of him suddenly vanished. He looked up and gaped in surprise at the sight of Morgan holding Hankel by the scruff of the neck. His eyes flickered to Reid before he turned to full force of his scowl on the still smiling man in his grip. "You alright there, Reid?"
Spencer forced himself to keep his hands at his sides instead of wrapping them around himself. "I'm fine."
Morgan nodded, but his expression didn't lighten. "Good. Why don't you stay here while Tobias and I go have a talk?"
Morgan and Hankel disappeared around a corner before Spencer could open his mouth to answer. Spencer was feeling so shaken that in the seventeen minutes that it took Morgan to come back, he just kept rereading the same page over and over again until the words were spinning in front of his eyes. Morgan's knuckles were bruised and his lip was split, but he didn't mention what had happened, just sat down next to Spencer, picked up a book of his own, and started to read.
By the third day after the Library Incident, Derek couldn't keep pretending that he didn't notice Reid was spending a lot of time watching him. It was unnerving and a more than a little annoying. It was only getting worse, too. What had started as small, considering glances had grown and mutated into long, considering gazes, often studded with Reid opening his mouth like he was about to say something and then snapping it closed, turning away for a moment, and then turning back to resume his staring.
He was on the verge of snapping-didn't the kid ever blink?-when Reid finally asked quietly, "Morgan? Why are you in here?"
Derek looked at Reid over the edge of his book and raised an eyebrow. "Because I broke the law, and when you break the law it tends to piss people off and you can end up in jail. What kind of question is that?"
Reid bit his lower lip and sat down at the foot of Derek's bed by his feet. "That's not quite what I meant. It's just," he paused, his gaze darting skittishly around the room. "It's just that you're a nice guy." Derek snorted, but Reid kept talking as if he hadn't. "People in here aren't just afraid of you, they respect you. And those guys don't respect anyone. The guards are always joking around with you. Hell, Lynch's wife regularly sends you cookies. And you're helping me when all it does is make life more difficult for you. You don't get anything out of it, but you do it anyway. So why are you in here? What could you possibly have done?"
Derek slowly lowered his book beside him and looked at where Reid's hand was resting on his ankle. He shifted his leg, but Reid's fingers just curled tighter around it, even as color rushed to his cheeks. What was the kid playing at? "I murdered someone."
Reid nodded and rose up to kneel at the end of the bed, his fingers trailing up the back of Derek's calf. He licked his lips and met Derek's eyes. His hand was steady on Derek's leg, but his eyes looked impossibly young and afraid. "He probably deserved it. You wouldn't kill someone who didn't."
Derek nodded absently and caught Reid's wrist in a gentle grip. "Yeah, he was a real bastard. What are you doing, Reid?"
Instead of stopping, Reid crawled up the bed until he was straddling Derek's lap. "You're a good man, Morgan. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me, but you and I both know that Hankel's not going to stop. Not unless..." Reid trailed off and gave Derek what he assumed was supposed to be a meaningful look. Derek put his hand on the center of Reid's chest and pushed him back, but the younger man just wound an arm around his waist and held on.
"You don't want to do this, kid."
Reid shook his head, agreeing with him, but his grip didn't loosen. "No, but better you than him. If it's going to happen no matter what, then I'd rather it be my choice." Reid turned those huge, beseeching eyes on him and Derek felt his stomach clench and his heart start to beat faster. "I know you said I shouldn't trust you, but I do. You wouldn't be doing it to hurt me. You'd be doing it to help me. I need you to help me, Morgan."
Derek swallowed thickly, Reid's thin arm deliciously warm around him. Bufurd's face rose up from the depths of his memory, but just then Reid leaned in to press a light, hesitant kiss against his lips and Derek's body took over, flipping the two of them so that Reid was underneath him, before his brain could catch up. It had been so fucking long since he'd touched anyone. Old anxieties made his breathing quicken, but his nerve endings were singing, on fire at how good this felt. And to finally be the one in control, the one with the power to stop it if he wanted, that made his head spin as much as the warm body under his did.
He deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into the younger man's mouth when he gasped. Reid was slow and uncertain in his response, his tongue tentatively echoing Derek's caresses and his lips soft and pliant, but unskilled. After several seconds, Derek forced himself to pull back. Reid rose up, trying to follow him, but Derek still had his wrist in his hand, and a sharp warning squeeze had Reid wincing and flopping back down on the mattress.
"Have you ever done this before, Reid?" Derek's eyes narrowed when Reid looked away, his cheeks bright red. "Any diseases I should know about before this goes any farther?"
"I've done...things before," he finally said, "I'm not completely inexperienced, but I've never done this. I've never done anything with another man. I don't have any sexually transmitted diseases. I had myself tested."
"Good. I'm clean too, and I'd like to keep it that way." Derek smoothed Reid's hair back away from his face and settled his body between the other man's legs. He was surprised when he realized that Reid was already hard, but Reid's nervous, almost defiant expression kept him from saying anything about it. "And you're certain?"
Reid lifted his hips against Derek's and he could feel his own cock respond at the press of Reid's erection. "Not really, but it's better than the alternative," Reid said, his voice already going low and husky.
Derek laughed. "Just what every man wants to hear," he muttered before taking Reid's mouth in another searing kiss. "Don't want to take advantage of you."
Reid wriggled beneath him, trying to take off both their clothes at once. "You're not."
"All you have to do is say stop and I will." Derek paused when he realized Reid was giving him an odd look. "What?"
Reid shook his head slightly and cupped Derek's cheek, his touch more sure than it had been before. "Nothing. I was just thinking. That guy you killed. He really did have it coming, didn't he?"
"Reid," Derek said, every muscle in his body going tense, but before he could continue, Reid had shook off the look and was grinding up against him again.
"Forget I said anything. Fuck me, Morgan."
He rolled his eyes and slid Reid's shirt up his torso, his fingers trailing up his sides and down his arms. "As you wish, pretty boy."
The next kiss was slower, gentler as Derek let Reid get use to the give and take. The more enthusiastic his responses became, the harder Derek pushed until Reid's quick, harsh gasps for breath had deteriorated into a near constant stream of whimpers and pleas for more. Derek sat up long enough to strip his shirt off and Reid took the opportunity to reach out and run his fingers over the hard swells of Derek's abs, his expression envious.
"You're beautiful." Derek snorted, but Reid shook his hair out of his earnest eyes and said, "No, really. I'd give anything to be like you. You're strong and powerful and beautiful. Like a Greek athlete. All that you're missing is a discus and the body oil." Reid's lips quirked in a small grin. "And you'd need to lose the pants. They competed naked, you know."
Derek rolled his eyes again, but he was kind of relieved that Reid was relaxed enough to be making jokes. He stood and shoved his pants and underwear down, smirking a little at Reid. "Like I said kid," he said as he settled back on the bed, "As you wish."
Reid's grin had gone a touch uneasy in the time it took Derek to rejoin him, and he self consciously fingered the waistband of his pants. "This works better if I'm naked too, doesn't it."
"Well, that is how it's traditionally done," Derek said and ran the back of his finger from Reid's belly button to the top of his pants. "What are you freaking out about? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before."
"Yeah," Reid said as he started to slowly wiggle out of his pants. Derek maintained eye contact-wasn't that supposed to help keep people calm?-and felt very proud for not giving in to the urge to just rip the rest of Reid's clothes off. No matter how long it was taking the guy. "This just feels different is all."
Derek smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner-he didn't have much practice at that particular expression-and, once Reid was completely undressed, tossed his clothes off of the narrow bed. "Good. That just means we're doing it right."
"Okay." Reid looked down at Derek's erection and visibly swallowed. "I've read about the basics of how to do this. You need to, um, loosen me up first. And it will help a lot with the, the friction if I'm wet." Derek pressed a finger against Reid's lips before he could really start babbling.
"I know what I'm doing. It's probably going to hurt some, but I'm going to make it as easy for you as I can, okay?" Reid nodded and started to open his mouth, but Derek slipped his fingers into it before he could say anything. "Okay. Suck," he ordered, his dick twitching with interest at the way Reid's wet, constantly moving tongue felt against his fingers. Reid tried to mumble something around the digits in his mouth, but Derek cut him off. "Look, either you get my fingers wet or we're not doing this, because I'm sure as hell not having sex with you dry. Do you have any idea how much that would hurt both of us?"
Reid started sucking in earnest, his teeth scraping lightly against Derek's knuckles and his tongue winding around and between his fingers. He was as unpracticed at this as he was at kissing, but he was eager enough and the sight of those sensual, wide lips wrapped around his fingers made Derek think about how it feel if that same mouth was stretched around his hard cock. Derek groaned lowly and reluctantly pulled out of the young man's mouth. It really had been too long since he'd been with someone if just that was enough to make him feel like he was on the verge of coming.
"Don't forget to breath," he warned Reid as he circled his index finger over the tight ring of muscle at his opening. "Ready?"
When Reid took a deep, steadying breath and nodded shortly, Derek pressed past the muscle into Reid's tight heat. Reid made a choked noise and Derek studied his face, waiting for him to unclench and relax enough for him to continue. After several seconds, Reid took another deep breath and wet his lips. "Feels weird. Invasive. I'd say it feels alien, but that makes me think of probing, which is actually oddly appropriate. So, yeah, it feels alien. Okay. Okay, I think that I can do this."
Derek slowly started to move his finger, stroking more than thrusting, and Reid's thin chest rose and fell rapidly. "Don't hyperventilate. Give it a second. I know it's weird, but if you give me a second, I can make it feel good too."
"Yeah? Because good sounds really good right now." Reid stared hard at the ceiling and made an obvious effort to control his breathing. "Listen to me. I sound like a, like a very not smart person. Is this what sex does to you? Makes you stupid?" Derek slid another finger in and Reid gasped and started babbling faster. "Stupid. Adjective. Lacking ordinary quickness and keenness of mind. Dull. Characterized by or proceeding from mental du-Oh fuck, do that again!"
Derek grinned as Reid's back bowed up off the bed, the blankets wrinkled by his tightly fisted hands, and stoked his fingers over Reid's prostate again. "I told you I could make it feel good, didn't I?"
"I'll never doubt you again," Reid panted, his hips slowly starting to move in rhythm with Derek's hand. Reid kept chattering, feverishly telling Derek everything he knew about topics he'd never even heard of before, as the older man stretched and prepared him. Derek spat in his palm and slicked his cock. Reid was too far gone in his own mind and pleasure to notice what was going on until Derek moved between his legs, slipped his fingers out, and rubbed his cock between the cheeks of his ass. Reid tensed again and stared at Derek with glazed, slightly crazed eyes.
"Last chance, Reid. It's still not too late to stop." Derek slipped one of Reid's legs up over his shoulder, spreading him wide beneath him, and watched for any signed that Reid wanted to back out. Instead, Reid used the leg over Derek's shoulder to pull him in closer, and Derek pushed inside of him. Tears sprang to the corners of Reid's eyes, but when Derek tried to stay still and give him time to adjust, Reid started to move his hips, egging the older man on.
Derek, too seduced by the tight heat surrounding him to put up much of a fight, thrust into Reid with a ferocity that had the younger man bent nearly double. Reid moaned loudly, and Derek was vaguely aware of the sound of cat calls from the cells on either side of them. Derek faltered a little, almost losing his rhythm, but it only seemed to encourage Reid to be louder. Derek dropped his head beside Reid's and tried to lose himself in the sounds he was making.
Reid's leg slipped off of Derek's shoulder as he writhed under him. When Derek reached down between them to curl his fingers around Reid's cock, he jerked and cried out. He circled his thumb around the head, spreading the precome down his shaft, and Reid wrapped his legs around Derek, desperately trying to pull him in faster, closer, harder.
Derek pressed his face against Reid's neck and changed his angle so that each thrust hit against his prostate. Derek could only assume, from the few that were distinguishable English, that the endless torrent of words streaming from Reid's mouth was a string of multilingual profanity that would probably have made most of the men in the building blush.
Reid's legs tightened around his waist and he clenched around Derek's cock as he nearly sobbed with pleasure and a sticky warmth hit Derek's palm. Derek kept thrusting as Reid came, moving quicker and rougher until the young man was moaning from just the feel of Derek filling him.
"Mark me," Reid gasped, his back arching up off the bed and his short, blunt nails digging deep crescents into Derek's shoulders. "Mark me so everyone knows I'm yours."
And as his orgasm shook through him, Derek bowed his head and bit down on the tempting spot where Reid's neck met his shoulder so hard that he tasted blood.
Derek idly curled a lock of Reid's hair around his finger, a little fascinated by its silky, slippery texture. In the months since they'd started sleeping together, he'd become rather fond of it. "We've talked about me, but what about you," he asked. "What did you do to end up in here?"
"Matricide. Patricide. Step-matricide." He paused, frowned. "Pseudo-matricide? Step-matricide? The-woman-your-father-abandoned-his-family-for-icide? Is there a word for killing your stepmother?"
Derek shrugged and wound the hair tight around his finger, tugged slightly, watched it slide free. His lips quirked in a small smile and he repeated the action. "I couldn't say." Twist, pull, slide. "How'd you do it?"
Reid rolled onto his side, his arms tucked between their bodies and a leg hooked over Derek's. "Carving knife. If I had it to do over again," he said thoughtfully, "I think I would have used something else. It was so messy."
"I would imagine." Reid really did have amazing hair, Derek decided as he combed his fingers through the fine strands. It looked brown at first glance, but if you looked closer, it was actually made up of several colors-gold, black, auburn. Reid's head was heavy against his shoulder and he moved so that his cheek was resting on top of his soft hair. "Why did you kill them?"
"Because I had to," Reid said quietly, his breath warm and distracting against Derek's neck. "They deserved it."
If someone were to write the story of Spencer Reid's life, then the sensible place to begin would be his birth. However, if they wanted to start where things got interesting, then they'd probably start with the day he ran into his father and stepmother at the supermarket and found out that the two of them were trying to get pregnant. Oh, sure, the author might jump around a bit, fill the readers in on how his father had left them when he was ten to be with his then girlfriend-Cherry. What kind of a name was Cherry?-and had apparently forgotten that he had a son, and consequently the alimony and child support checks that constantly slipped his mind. The author would probably indulge in some psych-type mumbo jumbo about how the strain of taking care of his schizophrenic mother had stretched him to his limit both emotionally and mentally. A wordy author could probably make several chapters out of his inner torment until the reader was ready to rip their hair out and shout 'But why do I need to know this?'
Then they would finally circle back to the beginning with that chance encounter and follow Reid as he added a sharp, shiny carving knife to his basket, trailed behind his father out into the parking lot, and calmly slit his throat next to his brand new Miata, then circled around it to do the same to his shocked stepmother before she could recover enough to scream. They'd read a recount about how he'd gotten into his own old, broken down car and carefully driven home, where, after being confronted by his surprisingly lucid mother about the blood covering him, he'd stabbed her in the stomach and held her hand as she bled to death.
At that point the reader would probably nod to him or herself and, feeling a bit foolish about the shouting, say 'Oh, I see. He was clearly rather upset because he felt neglected and replaced. How terribly sad.'
Of course, that was all a moot point since no one was going to write his life story. No, you usually had to kill far more people in a much more interesting way before people were willing to spend that much time and energy on you.
If the beginning of this particular story was the meeting, then the ending was probably late one fall when Derek's lawyer visited him to tell him that his appeal looked like it was going to go through. His good behavior and obvious efforts to educate and better himself during his incarceration hadn't gone unnoticed, and words like 'rehabilitated' and 'productive member of society' were being flung around with promising frequency.
That night, after offhandedly telling Reid the news, the young man clung to him, pulled him close, pulled him in. He was nearly frantic as he moved on top of Derek, heavy and hot and hard. Afterward, while Derek was still sprawled on his back, struggling to catch his breath, he curled up against the older man's side and murmured about his own life sentence. No chance of parole. He was so grateful for what Derek had done for him. He would never have been able to survive this long without him. Things would be so different after Derek left.
The next day, Derek walked up to Hankel in front of a group of guards and cooly, efficiently snapped his neck while Reid stood to the side, his pretty lips curved in a small, satisfied smile.
Thank you for reading! Feedback is overwhelmingly appreciated.
This was originally written for a kinkmeme over on LJ. The prompt was "Reid is Morgan's prison bitch." I might have subverted this particular prompt just a little. =/
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