Mate Potential by PopePrincess
Hotch had a secret. He was a werewolf. The only time he allowed himself to take off was during and around the full moon. Only Garcia had noticed, revealed to him by a half-whisper about how adorable it was he was a Wiccan. Whatever that was.
Hotch was also an Alpha werewolf. Leading came easily to him. People followed him even if they didn't understand why, because there was a base raw animal (literally) magnetism to him. His most inner self was as a leader of a pack. And his pack was Rossi, Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, Reid and even Garcia.
If he had to classify them in werewolf terms (which was always difficult with ordinary people): Rossi too was an alpha, Morgan a beta. Almost like a switch, capable of following or leading as circumstance dictated. Prentiss was a beta, more willing to follow because she had less expectations of becoming a group leader herself. JJ was too strong to be a beta, but as an alpha she was good at concealing it behind soft words and softer looks. Reid was an omega if there ever was one. Penelope was a beta also. A master in her own domain, a willing follower everywhere else, edging into omega territory.
Hotch was an alpha because the thought of following someone else longer than temporarily was anathema to him. He wanted subservience. He wanted people to bare their necks in a metaphorical sense. Professionally and even privately. It was possibly one of the reasons why he and Haley had ultimately clashed. The idea of a strong alpha appealed to the cavewoman inside of her. But that only worked on a primitive level. There was no need for it in everyday life; the give and take of family life, arguing whose turn it was to take out the trash.
Haley wanted Hotch to be her equal. But they'd formed their relationship, in the beginning stages at least, around the idea of him as the dominant partner. That was forgotten, like the hormones that smoothed the bumps in the first few months, as reality set in. But it was a part of him. He couldn't forget it.
He was willing to take the trash out half the time, but if he asked her to do it (the please tacked on for politeness), he expected her to do it. Bare her throat, a metaphor for simplicity's sake. He didn't appreciate her questioning him, disapproving of his comings and goings and ridiculous working hours. That wasn't how he wanted, *needed* it to work. He would take care of her, protect her, provide for her, and in return she would accept it. There were some alphas that would abuse that trust when given it. But Hotch was a better person than that. He wouldn't allow himself and Haley turn into his parents.
A beta would have easily understood what Haley wanted. Would have conceded to it. But at his heart Aaron wasn't that person. He knew he spent too much time at work. And so if it was a problem, it was up to him to fix it. For his wife. His mate. But her nagging him, doubting him, reproaching him... His wolf wanted someone who'd accept unquestioningly that he'd do what was best. Her doubt and unhappiness in him stung more than salt in a wound.
When she left, he thought maybe it was for the best. It was better on some level not to disappoint her anymore. Her hurt hurt him. But his wolf was a leader, and so covered its sadness in anger. Turned the defensive into an offensive.
It was during his mulling over his teammates that his wolf became interested in Reid. Reid was the only omega. And after his disastrous relationship with Haley, who had been an alpha or at least a dominant beta, his wolf wanted to have some fun. Re-assert itself. Maybe it could have tried to assert itself by over-powering another alpha. But easier prey would work just as well, his instincts told him, especially as the length of time furthered since he'd last had sex.
Hotch was thinking of how it was odd to have an omega on the team at all, and that you would expect more alphas. However betas worked better in a team environment. A team of alphas would get nothing done. Two at a time was probably the most they could handle. Maybe that was an underlying reason why Greenaway didn't work out. But Reid… special enough to be included because of his mind, otherwise a distinct exception. You barely had to huff or puff at him and he was exposing his stomach, neck tilted back.
It was that image the wolf fixated on. In an environment of constant alphas and betas, Reid almost glowed with his submissiveness.
And the recent confidence he'd acquired did nothing but make the wolf salivate more. A bit of a challenge before Hotch took him down… that would be perfect.
So things he'd never noticed before suddenly became centre stage in his awareness. Reid, moving out of the way of the kettle and smiling a little as soon as Hotch entered the staff's kitchenette. Pleasant in his immediate, unquestioning accommodation.
Moving his things if someone else even twitched so much as to suggest they needed more space.
Hotch had decided to push it. To see where Reid would stop him.
The first thing he did was get him to move on the plane. Reid went in and sat down on one of the seats on the jet. Hotch by chance was next on.
"Can I sit there?" he asked.
"Um, sure," Reid said, the strap he'd just taken off going back over his head. He stood and edged out, moving to a different seat. Hotch took the seat, not warmed or scented by Reid but more comfortable for the knowledge that it had been conceded to him.
Later during the jet ride, Reid looked at him in confusion. Why had he had Reid move?, he was doubtlessly asking himself. There were so many other seats available, especially since Hotch was only second on.
The others hadn't taken note which was good. They'd be more likely to question him. There was no strategic reason to sit where he had. Hotch avoided the omega's gaze until the last few minutes of flight, turning and meeting his eyes straight on. He didn't know what his eyes said. Reid's eyes, no anger, just questioning, went wide. They held eye contact for 23 seconds and then Reid dropped his head down.
The wolf inside of Hotch howled and pawed at his human side enthusiastically.
Morgan had noted *that* and raised an eyebrow at Hotch. The big-brother instinct inside of him, protecting Reid. Hotchener approved. He didn't even bother to try a staring match with Morgan, because he didn't have the time or patience against someone who would fight him on it. Hotch shook his head, made his mouth non-threatening, a humble line.
Nothing to worry about, his expression said.
Morgan nodded and after another second, went back to his case notes.
The second time was more intimate. The wolf had insisted on escalation, when the first time had gone so well. They were in the FBI headquarters' elevator.
"Hotch?" asked Reid for attention, reading something a mile a minute (possibly faster since it was Reid). His voice said he wanted his superior's opinion or expertise on something.
"Hotchener," said Hotch.
Reid looked up, brows pulled together adorably. "Hotchener," repeated Reid, not knowing why the formality was suddenly called for but complying anyway.
"Agent," added Hotch.
Reid straightened and brought his attention fully upwards. "Agent Hotchener," said Reid, voice questioning, more-so about *why* now rather than for permission to ask another question.
"Yes?" asked Hotch.
'Ask me,' his eyes dared. 'Ask me and I'll tell you'.
"Ah." Reid looked around and then back at the line his finger was on. "Have you ever heard of twin murderers? As in, two individuals with the same DNA raised separately, no contact at all, but still grew up to be the same thing?"
"No, not personally," Hotch said. "Ask Rossi."
"Mhm." Reid's attention went back to his book, and all but for a sideways glance when they reached their floor, ignored the incident.
The bit that made his body swamp with heat, made his wolf purr and curl up pleasantly along his insides, was when later at the local police station, Reid called him over to the board surrounded by fellow agents and policemen with, "Agent Hotchener!"
The third time was really pushing it. Hotch invited Reid over for dinner with himself and Jack. A sort of celebration and unwinding after a successful case. Reid was awkwardly adorable, Jack making up most of the conversation. Jack was quiet with everyone else, but willing to lead in his conversations with Reid as if Reid were a younger child.
Hotch had inherited his Alpha gene from his father. He wondered suddenly if this Jack, who wouldn't be clear in his pack-status until puberty, was already showing signs of his Alpha-dom. Hotch, even when young, had been a loner, but always willing to protect other children from bullies. Take the lead in his dealings with peers, guide younger ones. Hotch smiled as he looked at Jack. Even if his human side knew he'd love Jack unconditionally whether he was an Alpha, Beta or Omega, his wolf side rumbled happily with pride at the early signs of a strong Alpha.
"Reid, can you come in here?" Hotch called after a few minutes of chatting coming from within Jack's room where he was showing Reid his toy dinosaur collection.
"Yeah?" asked Reid, popping his head out.
"Come here please will you?"
Reid strolled into the kitchen, hands in his jacket pockets, sleeves rolled back to expose slim arms and almost non-existent wrists.
Aaron wanted to bite them, those wrists, with semi-circle red teeth marks. Mark him.
*Aaron wanted to mark him.*
Jeez. That's not something you did with other people unless they were your mate.
Did Aaron want Spencer as his mate?
Luckily, his wolf was busy rolling around pleasantly as Reid approached with his slight, unassuming smile.
"Cook," ordered Hotch.
Reid came willingly, not even the touch of hesitation (stubbornness) or wariness that Morgan or Prentiss would have exhibited. Rossi would have stood his ground until Hotch explained.
"Chop those tomatoes," Hotch said (ordered).
"Okay." He took up the knife and started chopping on the worn wooden board. He didn't even look up as Hotch settled himself, hip against the counter, watching from Reid's shoulder. "Why?" he asked after a few seconds of silence, watching his hands with the knife, Hotch watching him. Jack was making racing car and explosion noises from the rug in the lounge.
"You need a cooking lesson," Hotch said. "You can't survive off of Chinese take-away forever. You need to look after yourself." Or he needed someone to look after him, the wolf inside of him suggested, licking its chops.
"I disagree," laughed Reid, using his right wrist to push his sleeve higher up his left arm. He went to repeat the process with his right arm, and Hotch deftly put his hand on Reid's wrist, pausing a moment for silent permission, then sliding his hand up Reid's arm and taking the sleeve with it. His arm was surprisingly warm, covered in light brown hairs.
"Thanks," said Reid. A werewolf's superior hearing picked up the slight breathlessness in his voice. Hotch tightened his hand slightly around Reid's elbow before letting ago.
Take, the wolf insisted. *Take*. The wolf was an animal. It wanted blood and sweat and tears. For Hotch to use brute strength to dominate Reid. Show him what a good mate he could be. Strong. Capable. Even if Reid didn't want it, something only the human side of Hotch cared about, *consent*, the wolf revelled in the idea of Reid's struggle to show proof of how strong he was, taking while holding him down. To the wolf, struggle was good. It showed a strong will, some independence, strength in one's mate even if not equal to the wolf's own.
It was a moment like this Hotch when was disgusted with his animal half. He ignored the way his pulse strummed his blood through him, erection pressing against the front of his pants, straining towards the younger agent.
Reid looked to him, smiling as he finished the second tomato. "Now what?" Oblivious.
It must have been nearing the full moon, for the wolf's urges to be so strong as to almost overwhelm his own. The wolf wanted Reid more than Hotch had realised.
It was in the presence of Jack that Hotch found strength.
The wolf even crowed over that idea. Proving to his son, possible future competition, how an Alpha took his mate. The wolf didn't understand age as a barrier, or innocence for something to be protected. It wanted to show it physical dominance as a display of intimidation while also teaching the son it wished to keep in line. It was thinking along the lines that one day Jack would overpower him to take over the mantle of Alpha of their pack. That wasn't the case. They weren't actually animals.
He wasn't going to rape Reid in front of his young child, he thought. And with that chilling thought he was able to take a step back, mentally and physically. He was disgusted by how strongly he'd allowed the wold to come to the surface.
'Later', purred the wolf.
Hotch decided the games had ended. He helped prepare the rest of the vegetables, and cooked the meat himself. Only when Reid firmly insisted did he let Reid set the table and put a pitcher of water on the table.
They smiled at each other over the dinner table. Reid was willing to talk about books he'd read as a child, and they had a lovely conversation. Jack really liked Reid, despite Reid's ability to alienate children completely. And Hotch and Reid managed to have a few conversations about things not work-related.
Another Alpha. Hotch has smelt him as soon as they walked into the police station in Nevada. A cocky Alpha. He'd practically pissed all over the place with the amount of pheromones that lingered in the air. Over several years old, the type that was released in sweat deliberately to mark territory. Hotch would never even think of doing that at Quantico.
It was to send a clear message to any other werewolf who impeded on his territory: 'I am in control here'. The man was probably a nightmare to work for.
Hotch straightened his tie and knew that the other werewolf was going to recognize him as immediately and fully as Hotch would him. Hotch gazed over at Reid, glowing with acquiescence as he ducked his head, letting some other people pass through a door in front of him.
Hotch wanted to close him in his arms and promise to keep him safe. (And then maybe bite his neck and fuck him blind, pinning his arms down as he *took*.) But that would be a sure fire way to initiate a challenge. Hopefully the other Alpha would ignore the only Omega in the team, and possibly in the room. Hotch hoped so, because he profiled the kind of man to wilfully mark his territory to be the sort of man to take advantage.
"Agent Hotchener," said the local Police Chief, striding over and extending his hand.
Hotch nodded. "Chief Rytter. This is my team. Agent Morgan, Prentiss and Dr Reid. Our Agents Rossi and Jereau are already on their way to the first crime scene." They shook hands, and Rytter looked over the assembled team. Rytter wasn't the werewolf. He was blank supernaturally, an ordinary human who favoured scented soap to cologne.
"Agents," said Rytter. "Thank you for your timely response. These are the detectives already on the case; Handel and Black."
Handel was the werewolf. Late-30's and an Alpha. His posture screamed tension; at being introduced by the Chief rather than being the Chief, at Hotch's intrusion (as he perceived it), and that Hotch outranked him. A problem. The type of personality to enter into law enforcement for the power, and the type to then abuse it.
He had a rangy look to him. He had short brown hair, colourless eyes and though not bulky like Morgan, his strength showed in the taut muscle of his arms. He was wearing a light shirt with grey pants.
His eyes alighted on Reid, the incongruent one. No special interest, just noting the disparity in forcefulness between Reid and every other person in the room, whether FBI or LEO.
Then Hotch moved slightly, shifting his weight to the right and blocking Handel's view of the Omega. It wasn't deliberate. Hotch was deliberately trying not to draw attention towards him. But the wolf, operating in his subconscious, was protecting a potential mate from someone it had seen as a potential rival. The wolf might not want Reid so urgently it had taken him yet, but the animal would not want anyone else to touch something it considered *its*.
Handel's nostrils flared. His eyes brightened, and his iris seemed to widen, the pupil with it. The white of his eyes minimised, losing humanity to the call of the wolf. The iris shrunk again, and Handel got himself under control. But his eyes were fixated on Reid now, and his wolf was there, swimming beneath the surface.
"Hotch," said Morgan, tone indicating it wasn't the first time he'd asked.
"Yes?" asked Hotch, eyes fixed on Handel. His voice was deeper, more gravelly than normal. Near growling.
"Hotch? Let's set up man, and get the profile out as quick as possible."
Hotch nodded. "Please lead the way." The Chief sent him a strange look, protective of his Detective. He had no idea his Detective would slit his neck in a back alley if it got him a step closer to promotion.
Hotch could see him. Talking to Reid. Stepping forwards. Reid backed up a step to reclaim his valuable personal space. Handel moved forward again, trapping him with his back to a stack of case file boxes. Reid was uncomfortable, obviously. His eyes flickered around, head turned to the side to try to disengage from the situation before him. His eyes met Hotch's. Wide. Pleading.
Hotch was crossing the room, JJ cut off mid-sentence as he walked over and gripped Reid's elbow, pulling him out from between the boxes and Handel, and pulled him out of the room.
"Hotch-" said Reid, voice high and tight. Unsure of what was happening. Hotch was over-reacting. Well, his wolf said he should have half-shifted and clawed the man's face off. But the humans in the room stared at them through the glass wall as Hotch pulled his younger agent towards the less-populated area.
There was an empty office with proper walls at the back of the station. Its door was unlocked. Hotch shoved Reid in then locked the door after them.
"Hotch!" said Reid, squirming out of his grasp. "You're hurting me!"
Bruises good, his wolf purred. Mark him.
Hotch let go. "I'm sorry."
"What was that!"
"I- I…. Handel was…"
"He was coming onto me but I could handle it," insisted Reid. "Geez."
Reid wouldn't have been able to handle it. Not if Handel decided to push the issue. He was stronger, faster and wouldn't have listened to a single protest.
Which is why StrongAlpha Human FatherProtector should claim him, his wolf insisted, using its own name for Hotch. For Reid's own good.
"No," said Hotch, not sure who he was speaking to.
"Look. I don't know why you thought that was necessary. It's not like I was encouraging him!"
Hotch growled, shoving Reid further into the room. Reid stumbled and caught himself against the desk. "What are you-!"
"You wouldn't," growled Hotch. "You wouldn't dare encourage him." His chest rumbled with the other-worldly.
"No of course not."
"Mine," growled Hotch. It was almost a hiss.
"What are you doing?" Reid asked. He'd finally picked up on the fact there was another element in play.
Smart, purred the wolf.
Hotch breathed through his nose, trying to find his calm. The wolf was throwing himself against the barrier that kept him controlled during the day. Every slam against the barrier was like a wash of red over his vision. The wolf wanted to rip and tear, make Reid scream so everyone else could hear. Hear Hotch's claim.
"I-I'm sorry," Hotch muttered.
Reid's smell was everywhere. Young, sweet, innocent. Slight tinge of fear, but not enough. There should be more. It spoke of Reid's trust. He was locked in a room with a dangerous man, and he was fine. The slight hint of fear was intoxicating though. Hotch wanted more. Wanted to prove to Reid that he was strong. That others would fear him as Reid feared him, prove that he could keep him safe.
"I'm going." Hotch opened the door. "Sorry."
"Well, I mean, thanks," Reid said with a little shrug. "Your interference wasn't totally unwelcome." He smiled a little.
Hotch's blood heated to boiling. Reid was thanking him. His wolf pawed at the barrier, wishing to take over. Not to change into his wolf form, but control his actions. Something that would have been adaptive in the days before civilisation, when groups of werewolves roamed free and there were territorial fights often. There were rumours that such groups still existed in the wild. Sometimes, when stress became too much, Hotch contemplated leaving everything and going to join them. But it was just a dream. He wouldn't leave his Blackberry for anything, and Jack deserved more than that situation would offer him. Like… dental care.
But right here and now, Reid was acknowledging his display of dominance and thanking him for it. Reid couldn't know what he was doing. Hotch had asserted his superiority, and Reid was accepting it freely. That was like hanging a sign that said 'fuck me' around his neck in terms of the wolf.
Hotch only realised he'd stepped back into the room when the door slammed shut behind him.
Reid's eyes widened. His fear spiked a little with the noise, but he was still majorly calm.
"Don't say such things," Hotch warned.
"Hotch, what's going on?" Now, he was scared. Now. Too late. The sour-sweet smell of fear in his sweat was just more of a push down a slide Hotch had already taken.
Reid really was too thin, not strong enough to fight off Hotch regularly, but especially not with werewolf strength behind it. Hotch didn't remember grasping his arms and forcing him back against the desk. He put his arms around the younger man, a hug, while thin arms straining to push him away. Hotch purred, scenting his skin and nuzzling his shoulder and neck.
"Hotch, get off of me!" yelled Reid.
Hotch bit him. Collar and scarf invaded the taste buds of his mouth where nothing but Reid should be.
"Hotch!" Choked off. Fear in waves now. Helplessness.
His skin was so warm, especially under his shirt when Hotch ripped it from his pants and slid his hands beneath. Reid was squirming to try to get away, whimpering high-pitched and desperate. Hotch nosed fabric away. Bit him again and Reid yowled. It really was an adorable noise. So Hotch did it again.
Reid's breaths were breathy, too strong. There was a risk of hyperventilation, a sound like a cut-off scream every time air was pushed out of his slender throat.
Hotch scratched his fingernails down Reid's back, hoping for blood. In his human form it wasn't adequate. Reid still let out a string of huffs in pain as Hotch dragged them ever-so-slow down the length of his back. He was fully biting and sucking his neck now. Reid had a hand on his face, trying to push him back. The amount of force and time Hotch was spending on his neck had to be uncomfortable, over-sensitizing the flesh.
Reid quieted down. He gave himself up to it as Hotch kept sucking and biting. He was crying, but he'd fallen limp in Hotch's arms. The wolf within him howled in triumph as Reid went soft and pliant. Oh, he wanted to fuck him. Mark. Own.
Reid was letting out proper sounds of pain when Hotch was able to regain enough control to disengage. Reid's smell was present but dimmed. Swathed under layers of Hotch's scent, pheromones indicating a very specific sort of possession. It was intent to mate. Reid was Hotch's. If Handel made a move on him now, it would be cause for war. Attack.
Handel was an arrogant dick, but he didn't look terminally stupid.
Hotch let Reid go. Reid went to fall, and Hotch caught him.
"Shh," said Hotch. "Shh." He wiped his tears away with his thumbs. He kissed him softly over his face. Reid's breath hitched, taken aback. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."
"What was that?" trembled Reid. Still not running away. Almost huddling into Hotch as he offered comfort and safety.
Hotch was just slightly annoyed. The wolf inside of him was appeased for now but that ravenous need was just under the surface, ready to come out when provoked. How could Reid not be running away? Did he really lack that much of a survival instinct?
Good mate, purred the wolf. Trusts us. Good mate. Proper fit. Take soon. Make part of pack.
Humanity retuning, Hotch thought how odd it was he'd just marked Reid and had never even kissed him. He leant forward and pressed their lips together. Their lips met gently, dryly. It was sweet but unmistakable.
Wide eyes, shiny from moisture, stared back at him. Eyelashes darkened by tears, a flush to his cheeks. Hotch kissed him again. Then one more time with a little more pressure, lingering for a few seconds.
When they left the room, the hickey on Reid's neck was tucked under his collar and purple scarf. Others didn't see it, but Handel would be able to smell it. Smell the scent of blood just under the surface of the bruise, the other ones on his arms and hips from Hotch's hands and the desk. Mingled with the scent of Hotch.
The line of events had been set in motion. Hotch was going to end up taking Reid. One day. And if Reid didn't give him permission, it'd be violent and bloody. Honestly, it would most likely be like that even if Reid did give him permission.
Reid squirming and whimpering, reality filling in the details for his imagination now that Hotch knew what Reid was like. How he reacted. Little noises he'd make. His wolf put forward the picture of Reid, pale legs bare on linoleum, jerking in pain as Hotch thrust into him. Giving in like he had with the hickey, falling limp. Accepting him. Maybe after a few times he'd learn to enjoy it.
Hotch drew his hand over his mouth and concentrated on behaving like a normal human being.