"Dance is the hidden language of the soul." - Martha Graham
"Portland has the highest capitae per strip club at from nine thousand to eleven thousand," Reid was saying as Prentiss unlocked her apartment door, "although that honour has been contested."
"I'll believe it," Morgan muttered, dumping his go-bag with the other's in the hall. "I like strip clubs as much as the next guy, but I actually feel dirty."
"Same," Prentiss echoed. "I'm not cooking. And I get first shower, order something while I'm in there."
The unwinding process was similar to after any hard case, three people's mechanisms combined in recent months with increasing time spent together. Prentiss showered while Reid ordered Chinese and Morgan put the television on. He sprinted to the shower as soon as he heard Prentiss getting out, too quick for Reid who called after him that he was a cheater. Food arrived while Reid was still getting dry, so he hurried out with his long hair towelled dry to join them.
They couldn't escape the existence of strippers though, as they ate dinner and Prentiss flicked through the TV channels. A flash of a woman dancing around a pole in a procedural crime show set Reid off.
"Did you know the origins of stripper as a form of erotic dancing are heavily disputed? There are citations from ancient Babylonia through to twentieth century America. But lapdancing," he gestured at the TV, where Prentiss had left the channel on and a woman pressed herself up against a man in a booth, "evolved into what it is today during the eighties after club owners allowed dancers to sit naked on customer's lap for a one dollar tip."
"I'd want more than one dollar," Prentiss scoffed.
"You could probably earn more if you danced while menstruating."
"A study showed that dancers tended to earn more money while ovulating, when they were most fertile. The authors of the study won an Ig Nobel prize in economics."
"Ig Nobel are Razzies of the science world, right?" Morgan asked.
"Well they are intended to be a parody, but the science awarded is still solid. Erotic dancing hasn't often been a field of research for any group, but it's worth study because dance can be linked to our early evolution, and the erotic portion speaks to innate sexuality which makes for-"
"If you know so much about erotic dance, genius, maybe you should show us," Morgan challenged, switching off the TV.
"Yeah." Prentiss nodded, grinning at Morgan. Between them Reid's tangent spluttered to a halt.
"You heard him," she said, leaning back against the arm of the chair. "C'mon." She patted her lap playfully.
"Are you two forgetting I can't dance?" Reid pointed out. "I think the phrase 'drunk baby giraffe' has been used before."
"Yeah pretty boy, but you can fuck," Morgan muttered, running a hand along the man's exposed arm and leaning in to nuzzle against his neck. "A sexy dance is just like sex without the sex. And the way you move when we fuck, man..."
"He's right." Emily nodded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. "You use your hips a lot when we're doing it. Especially when you're riding him." She nodded at Morgan. "It's sexy as hell."
"Sexy?" he asked a little hesitantly.
"Yeah," Morgan agreed, kissing the edge of the man's jaw. "Sexy is a state of mind. And you're sexy when you're doing what you're best at; obscure facts, geographical profiles, sex."
"You think I'm good at sex?" he laughed awkwardly, pushing his hair behind his ear in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.
"When have we ever given you reason not to think you're a fantastic fuck, Spencer?" Morgan muttered, teasing at the man's clothed hip with his fingertips. Reid let out a puff of air at the sound of his name; first names had only started creeping into intimate moments within the last few months, after a long time of resistance from each of them. "Emily," he murmured as he felt Reid leaning into him, "go sit in the armchair."
There were a few seconds of silent understanding between the two of them, and then slowly she rose and padded over to the armchair. Reid's eyes were concentrating on her as his body focused on the touch of Morgan's lips against his neck, his hand squeezing his hip, his heat radiating. Morgan grinned as he blindly reached for the stereo remote.
"Thought you were smarter than that," he muttered, just loud enough for Prentiss to hear too, "holding yourself to silly standards of what sexy is. Can't believe you don't know how sexy you are, pretty boy. Gonna prove it to you. You give Emily a dance, study her reaction. Let that prove how sexy you are."
"Did you two plan this?" Reid said, his voice throatier than he'd anticipated.
"I'm just very good at rolling with things," Morgan chuckled. The sound system clicked into life, and the volume was low as Morgan skipped through tracks. "Here we go," he purred at the sound of a slow thrumming base line and began to turn up the volume. "Go shake your thing pretty boy, I know you can do it."
He still had his socks on, Morgan noticed, as the younger man pushed up from the sofa and took a few steps into the centre of the sitting area. He stood awkwardly a few paces away from Prentiss, who had her lip between her teeth again in anticipation. The song thrummed through the room, and Reid glanced back at Morgan helplessly. With a soft chuckle Reid could see rather than hear he got up and come up close behind the man, hands splaying out over his hips.
"I'll just get you started," he said by the man's ear as he rolled his hips, which prompted Reid to mirror the motion. "That's it, baby. It's all in the hips, and yours are stunning. Listen to the music, let your body move with it." He ran his hands up Reid's sides over his shirt as he looked to Prentiss, whose eyes were dark with lust as her hands gripped her knees. "And your arms baby boy, you do what you want with them. Touch her, touch you, put them on your hips, wind them up like a belly dancer. There's no wrong way to do it. That's it."
As he reluctantly extracted himself from the warm moving body, Reid's motion faltered just a little and then continued, his hips rolling in a circle. Morgan retreated back to the couch, where he could see Reid and Prentiss.
At first it was sincere but awkward, Reid rolling his hips and holding up his hands as if to balance himself. He looked at Prentiss intensely, who was staring back just as much so, no trace of teasing or laughter on her face. It seemed to embolden him, because after a few bars of the sensual song, his feet became part of the equation too, lifting with the motion of his hips. He lifted his hands and they went to the buttons on his shirt, as the motion of his hips changed to an undulating motion that snaked up and down his body as he expose his chest slowly, inching closer to Prentiss in her chair.
Even by the dim lamp light Morgan could tell she was aroused; her eyes were lidded, her body moved minutely as she tried to stimulate herself against her clothing. Reid would likely be noticing those signs too, helping to prove their point that he was sexy, that his presence alone was enough to stimulate arousal.
With the last of his buttons undone he moved forward more, until he was right up close to her chair, his legs either side of her knees. He was dancing for her now, reading her reactions and moving with them; when her lips parted a little in response to a particular jerk of his hips he utilised the motion more in the next set of rolls and swings of his torso to the thrumming base of the music. Morgan had been the recipient of many a lap dance, it was an interesting perspective to witness both players.
He was sure being as observant as he was that Reid must have seen enough dances in his life to be able to imitate them, and that might have explained the way he was now on the balls of his feet as he moved, consciously or unconsciously imitating the posture forced by high heeled shoes.
When Reid planted his knees either side of Emily's thighs her hands immediately reached for him, grabbing his rear as he continued to move, the dance now true it its name and intimate, his body pressing into hers. From his vantage point Morgan could see that Reid was hard in his pants. She pushed the shirt off his back, revealing miles of taunt pale flesh to her wandering hands.
Morgan still had enough focus to realise the track was about to end, so he set it to loop indefinitely, although he did lower the volume a little. Reid's hips still moved in exquisite circles, and he could finally hear as well as see both of them breathing heavily.
"God, Spencer," she muttered, "I want you to ride me."
Morgan heard the man groan, saw him lick his lips. Prentiss met his eyes as Morgan got up from the sofa, nodding at her. He moved quickly towards her bedroom, going for the box in the bottom of her closet to retrieve something, and then to the bedside draw for lube.
When he got back to the living room she had her hand down the front of Reid's trousers and they were kissing furiously, her other hand threaded through his damp hair and holding him in place. She pulled away with a satisfied sound, made Reid whine by pulling her hand away from his crotch and grinned at Morgan, holding out the hand expectantly. He handed her what he'd collected from her bedroom, and Reid dismounted, the look of tense anticipation clear on his face. She passed the lube back to him as she slipped out of her shirt.
"Get him ready for me."
Reid was already hurriedly stripping off his underwear as Morgan spread lube on his fingers. The genius braced his hands on an arm of the chair, bending his body a little without taking his eyes off Prentiss as she stripped naked and then stepped into the padded harness, the erect red dildo bobbing in front of her as she secured it. As Morgan pushed a slick finger into Reid's tight but willing hole she offered the faux-penis to him, pressing the tip against his lips. He swirled his tongue around it without hesitation, and Morgan put a playful approving slap against Reid's behind; he groaned and swallowed more of the toy, treating it with as much consideration as he always showed to Morgan's cock.
Two fingers and a curling motion and Reid was moaning deeply and pushing back, pulling off the toy for breath.
"Ain't he the most beautiful man you've ever seen?" he cooed, grinning at Emily. "Especially when he's almost ready to beg for it."
"I don't know, I think he shares the title," she said, stepping around Reid so she could reach up to Morgan's neck and pull him down for a kiss.
He handed her the lube as he pushed a third finger in alongside the other two, spreading him out a little more; he moaned and wiggled his hips back. She took up her armchair again, squeezing lube out onto the silicone penis that stood up from the harness over her groin. Morgan pulled his fingers out gently, retreating from the pair and going back to his vantage point on the couch, unbuttoning his fly as he went.
"C'mon Spencer," she cooed, patting her lap playfully, "giddy up."
He didn't even hesitate, climbing into Emily's lap and helping to angle himself. She was a little rough on him, grabbing his hips and pulling him down so he impaled himself on a few inches of the lubed toy. He gasped and groaned, and she didn't stop pulling him down, because they all had words for if it got too much. When he was fully seated she took her hands away, putting them on the arms of the chair.
"Come on Reid," she grinned, "move your hips like you did earlier."
And he did. He moved slowly at first, thrusting his hips gently, as Morgan suspected he calculated angles and speed for ideal penetration. Gradually it became a lift and drop of the hips, rolling each time he was seated on the cock, Emily's cock. Morgan palmed himself through his jeans as he watched Reid's muscles tensing as he used his legs to lift and lower his body.
"You look fucking good, Spencer," Prentiss purred, "fucking sexy, yeah. I get such penis envy when I watch Morgan fucking you."
"Penis envy is linked to-" Reid began, but Prentiss bumped her hips upwards and his train of thought was derailed by the sudden movement.
"Come on," she encouraged, lifting her hips a little. He grabbed her shoulders and used the grip for leverage to move against her. "Fuck," she groaned.
"You should feel how tight he is," Morgan chimed in. "Like a glove."
"Fuck," Emily hissed, grapping Reid's hips and helping to angle his motion so the movement pressed the flared base of the toy against her vulva. "Until science develops the ability to let me grow a dick at will I'm gonna have to go for imagining it. I've got some great visuals to contend with in the meantime," she added, leaning forward to graze her teeth over Reid's chest, catching one of his nipples.
"Actually-" he groaned as her short fingernails dug into his hips, and he rolled his hips around, changing the motion of their fucking.
"Shut up Reid, don't you dare," she growled, pulling him more fiercely against her. "I don't wanna hear how close science actually is to grafting dicks, I want to hear you begging me to make you cum."
"Damn, woman," Morgan murmured from nearby, pulling himself free from the confines of his jeans.
Prentiss swore a lot, and Reid was loud, and together they only seemed to encourage each other. The harder he drove himself onto her and the tighter she gripped his hips, the louder he got, groaning as he tossed his head back. He swore and closed his eyes at the sight of Morgan nearby, stroking himself luxuriously to the sight before him.
"Emily," Reid moaned, dropping his damp forehead against hers. She kissed him fiercely, sparing a hand to grab his hair and pull his head back to expose the long column of his neck. She sunk her teeth into the hot flesh, making Reid yelp and arch up into the pain. The dildo slipped out of him but neither let it interrupt their rhythm, quickly returning to a frantic pace.
It didn't take long before Reid was panting and keening and moving mindlessly against Emily's body, and she took pity on him and spared a hand to grab his cock and stroke him.
"Aah!" he gasped, bucking up into her tight grip. She slowed her motion, edging him just before the tipping point of his orgasm. "Emily, Em, please, please!"
"Fuck," she gasped at his begging, resuming the pace to push him right into his climax. He yelled out and buried his face in her neck, slamming his hips against her wantonly as he released all over her hand, hot and sticky against her belly.
She kept stroking him as his orgasm thrummed through him, easing him through the sensation as his hips slowed.
"Fuck, Spencer," Prentiss groaned, pushing her hips upwards. With some considerable effort, Reid pushed himself up and off the dildo and the chair, stretching his arms up luxuriously. The two looked around at Morgan at around the same time, and he was grinning and continuing to stroke himself. To nobody's surprise, Reid took the few steps towards him and dropped down between his legs, immediately taking over stimulation with his mouth and hands.
"Damn, pretty boy," Morgan moaned, stroking his hand through the man's hair, letting him guide the motion. "Emily, c'mere," he beckoned and she did, loosening the harness a little and careful not to disturb Reid's ministrations as she mounted the couch and angled her hips forward so Derek could easily slip his hand under the harness. He found her clit and rubbed it in tight circles, letting her help to push herself to climax by grinding against him, faux-cock bobbing comically from her crotch. She came hard, swearing right next to his ear and practically collapsing on him, nipping at his earlobe as she fell into the crook of his neck.
It didn't take long with Reid's talented mouth working for Morgan to finish too, gripping the back of the man's head harder and pushing his hips up into the tight wet heat; the genius went with it, relishing the tang and pulse of hot flesh heavy on his tongue.
"Oh man..." Morgan breathed as Reid ran his tongue over him, collecting a stray drip of semen. "Can we do this every time we go to a strip club on a case? Like a tradition? Fuck, your mouth is as clever as you are, baby boy."
"And he dances like a dream," Prentiss added with a chuckle, as she pushed herself up, rolling her shoulders. "Couch isn't big enough for three. Bed, please, I'm beat."
Morgan groaned in protest but got up, following the others through into the bedroom. Emily unhooked the harness as she went, letting it drop to the floor of her bedroom and stepped out of it, abandoned like their clothes, all to be tidied in the morning. Reid got sandwiched into the middle of the bed, Prentiss fitting her body to the shape of his from behind, Morgan on his back with Reid's arm and leg draped across him.
"Em, you left a mark on his neck." Morgan stroked his thumb over the teeth marks, leaning in to kiss the end of the man's nose.
"Sorry," she said, only managing to sound a little sorry.
"It'll fade," Reid murmured sleepily. "Or I'll wear a scarf."
Emily kissed the top of the man's spine and stroked her hand across his hip, catching Morgan's eyes as her eyelids started to droop. They smiled lazily at each other, basking in the glow of the team up that had worked completely in their favour.
"Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire." - Robert Frost