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fragilevixenfic · 4 years

Note

hey!! could we have some smutty/fluffy spencer reid fic if ur comfortable?? 😀

Oh my gosh...I so hope I do this justice.

Summary: Dulce periculum translates to “danger is sweet”. Takes place nine months after the episode “…And in the End.”

Maxine and Spencer have continued seeing each other, in spite of the interference brought to the surface by Cat Adams. Spencer continues to work closely with the BAU after it nearly dismantled, with signature members scattering to the winds, leaving behind only a few, including himself, to keep working on their caseload. After a long, intense case, Spencer returns home to a little more than a can of worms.

Notes: “Seduce my mind and you can have my body, Find my soul and I’m yours forever.” – Anonymous

Note: I am nowhere near Spencer’s level of intellect but I hope I did him justice. I didn’t want it to be too smutty or too fluffy so I hope the angst didn’t overtake the story. I hope that I lived up to the request - this is my first foray into this world of Criminal Minds in spite of it being one of my FAVE shows. I adore these characters. This was an anonymous request via Tumblr, so go easy on me.

-----------------

A modest demeanor arouses

Thoughts of seduction.

-Mason Cooley

9:30 PM

Spencer Reid’s Apartment

Washington DC

Exhaustion had been a familiar friend for longer than Spencer wanted to admit as his keys stabbed at the keyhole, missing four or five times before finally intercepting and setting off the mechanism inside. Instinct had carried him home and pure adrenaline had kept him from losing the battle with gravity as balance was a cruel mistress that had him hanging by a thread. Twenty-six hours, fourteen minutes, thirteen seconds, and the time was still ticking away. That’s how long it had been since he’d slept and J.J. did her best to distract him long enough on the jet back from their case but, it only made her relaxed enough to pass out in mid-story. The white flag sailed as he watched her for a few moments, relieved over the reclamation of their friendship, and indulged in a Rossi-like activity by accepting that glass of single-malt from Alvez as the clouds moved by.

The scent of books, old and new, wafted across his nostrils, ushering him over the threshold until the juniper paint, patterned wallpaper, and walnut wainscoting adjusted in his line of sight. It was home even if it hadn’t always inspired a feeling of comfort or care. Tonight, though, it was different, as the warm air nipped at his wrists and his Adam’s apple as he loosened his loudly patterned tie above the curve of his vest while he kicked out of his shoes. Spencer hadn’t considered himself the drinking type but he was eyeing a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from Sonoma Valley gifted to him by Garcia the week before she left. He’d made a promise that it wouldn’t just sit and collect dust but it had started to do just that as he looked at it nestled between a section of old Shakespearean collections.

Poetically placed, he had figured, as he pulled the bottle from the shelf and smiled at the wine’s vintage of 1981. He chuckled over the choice of a wine from the year he was born and at the intentional way that Garcia knew how to appeal to his attention to detail. Missing her presence didn’t do it justice as he pulled his phone from his pocket, formulating the text to the bubbly woman that never ceased to put a smile on his face even at the darkest of times. She really had become his rock and kept him sane as the world seemed to be falling apart around him.

I made you a promise when you gave this to me. I’m getting ready to pop the cork on this one.

He snapped a picture of the bottle and sent it with the text, a smirk still resting on his lips as he pushed the phone into his pocket and glanced at the closed door behind him. It was quiet and lonely in the room, almost to the point of agony as he went to the stereo equipment in the corner, flipping through the albums until a Jazz compilation stood out. The cover was bright, loud even, and represented everything that Spencer wasn’t as he put the vinyl on and let the needle touch the ridged surface as it spun. The melody filled the room with just enough sound to be a murmur that played against his eardrums while he went to the kitchen in search of a corkscrew.

The phone buzzed in his pocket and Penelope Garcia’s name lit up across the display as he took a peek, conjuring a smile that rivaled a first kiss as he pressed the speaker. “Garcia…You didn’t need to call me while I open the bottle.”

“Nonsense, mon ami,” Garcia’s voice was refreshing and missed as he searched through a kitchen drawer that was uncharacteristically cluttered, rifling through everything. “Where’s that lovely girl Maxine? You should be popping that bottle with her not sitting there alone.”

“I sent a text when I got back to DC but she hasn’t replied yet,” Spencer unearthed a corkscrew with a red handle from the mess and pushed the drawer closed, a confused look on his face as he went to work on the bottle. “I know that she was complicit in the Cat ordeal, but there are times that I feel as though it’s still hovering over our heads like a dark cloud.”

“You’re literally the smartest man I know but you’re also the dumbest, Reid,” Garcia’s remark coaxed a scoff as he popped the cork free, the sound echoing in the nearly sterile kitchen as he let the bottle breathe. “Sometimes, you have to woo a woman even when she says you don’t need to woo her.”

“Speaking of wooing…how are things with Alvez?” Spencer opened the curio and retrieved a squatty wine glass with a gold rim, a faint smile appearing as he carried it and the bottle into the living room. “Every time I inquire he threatens to take my sidearm and shoot me.”

“Shut the front door…I wouldn’t have pegged him for a privacy guy,” Garcia’s laugh in Spencer’s ear was a welcomed distraction as he poured the wine and sank into a leather chair, the squish considerable as he felt it give beneath his backside. “We’re taking it slow. Dinner and movie nights every chance we get, nothing extravagant yet. I’m, shockingly, okay with it with respect to my relationship history.”

“I’m absolutely overjoyed for you, Garcia,” Spencer took his first sip of the deep red liquid and let it wash over his palate for a moment before swallowing, appreciating the blend of flavor that his friend had picked for him. “As expected, the wine is exactly as it should be and more. Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s good? I was worried that it would be too pungent with the vintage but something about it spoke to me and you know me. The louder the message, the quicker the grab,” Garcia couldn’t hide the excitement through the phone as her voice climbed a little higher while his eyes watched the bubble in the burgundy shade swirl. “You’re being honest, right?”

“I’m a notoriously bad liar when it comes to you and I wouldn’t lie about a gift from you, Garcia,” Spencer was enraptured by the texture of the label on the bottle as he twisted it with the tips of his fingers as it sat against the top of the table next to him. “Drinking alone, though? I’m out of my element.”

“You should call her, Spence,” Garcia’s tone softened as she referenced Maxine with a soft implication, tapping at the weaker parts of his psyche as he picked the glass back up and elevated it, before taking a sip. “It couldn’t hurt to have company. Just rip off the band-aid.”

“It couldn’t hurt to have a lot of things but I seem to find new and exciting ways of ripping open a perfectly good suture,” Spencer was thinking of Maeve, haunted by her pale ghost to the point that he could almost see her visage standing at the window with a book open while delivering a pointed look that scolded him for even thinking of her right now. “I don’t know what to do without sounding like a desperate, lonely man.”

“Desperate is kind of a subjective term for your situation, my philosophical friend,” Garcia had him curious and confused, which unsettled his stomach as he leaned against the armrest, elbow digging into the leather while the sigh hovered in his lungs. “No one should be alone unless that is what they actually want—and I don’t get the sense that you want to be alone.”

Garcia had been right about him. Spencer Reid’s naiveté was oozing from his pores, lighting him up in neon as the air finally left his lips in a huff. A man could read every book ranging from the scientific methodology to the psychological qualities of beekeeping but it would not be enough to get by in a real-world situation. This wasn’t beekeeping and while hedonism could be quantified, it could not be taught. This was the one time that paying extra attention to Derek Morgan might’ve done him a little bit of good but he shied away from that kind of bravado back then. He could already picture the smirk on Derek Morgan’s face if he were present; the white flag flying to be shown the ways of natural masculinity that Spencer really never wanted to utilize.

At least, he never wanted to until the flash of Maxine’s deep, mahogany eyes passed through his consciousness with that mysterious, playful smile that enraptured him.

“That would involve her actually answering my calls or texts,” Spencer swallowed a considerable mouthful of the wine and tilted his head back, letting the vertebrae crack back into place with a satisfactory series of pops. “I haven’t heard back from her since yesterday when she called to tell me goodnight before we finished the final day in Chicago.”

“Was your invitation a normal invitation or one of those signature Spencer Reid-style invitations buried in sarcasm and symbolism that only your closest friends might actually understand?” Garcia was tinkering away on her end as she let out a laugh and became an echo with a change to speaker. “You’re on speaker while I wrestle with a cork.”

“It was a standard invite, I think,” Spencer wrinkled his nose and stood up, pacing the floor as the needle bounced against the stopper and the music came to a halt, muting the noise in the room. “Are you joining me in a glass via telephone?”

“No, I’m letting it breathe before Luke gets here,” Garcia’s voice preceded the pop of the cork as Spencer switched the vinyl to an Annie

Lennox album in an effort to depart his typical mood. “We’re watching Hardware, drinking chardonnay, and eating fruit and cheese.”

“You’re watching a horror film about androids?” Spencer had a smirk hiding on his lips as the androgynous, melodic vocals filled the room while he adjusted the curtains. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“I lost a bet to Luke about the number of texts, emails, and phone calls he could squeeze in while on a case,” Garcia was reluctant with the admission as the comment had Spencer’s interest piqued fully. “He managed to nearly double the number that I said he’d do and he, literally, sent me a text that said, ‘I win, I win, I win’ like a six-year-old.”

“So that’s why he was on the phone so much,” Spencer started to laugh as he recollected each moment that Alvez was on his cell phone while having a full-blown conversation with him, the realization that he was paying attention to Garcia absolutely hilarious as he let the pieces fall into place. “I’m glad you’re happy, Garcia.”

“It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” Garcia’s question blended perfectly with the distinct tapping against the door from the exterior hallway, bringing Spencer’s attention toward it without hesitation.

“It really has,” Spencer got up, leaving the wine behind on the side table as the spirit of inquiry took over and encouraged his feet forward until his hand was at the lock to turn it.

“Was that a knock at the door, Spence?” Garcia asked, the muddled reverberations of glass tapping together moving through the phone as she kept him on speaker.

Spencer didn’t fully absorb the question as he clicked the deadbolt until it unlocked the door, the shift of the door vibrating against his palm as his equilibrium spun. Spencer’s anxiety jumped and his palms began to sweat as the subtle tapping of heels against the floor preceded the sigh that he could hear through the barrier between them. He had his conclusions as to who it was and the excitement was taking a backseat to the paranoia he couldn’t help but feel. Maxine hadn’t talked to him since the day before and her showing up to his apartment unannounced wasn’t one of her typical characteristics. It had him reeling as he opened the door to confirm his guesses as her brown eyes stared up at him beneath waves of dirty blond locks.

“Hey,” Maxine’s voice was in that tenor between mousy and pointed as she tucked her hair behind her ears and rocked in her heels, folding her hands behind her back.

“Hey,” Spencer bit down on his bottom lip until it hurt and felt the fog lift as he could hear Garcia saying his name in his ear. “Garcia, I’ll call you back. Have fun with Alvez and your wine night.”

“Go get her, Tiger,” Garcia had an unmistakable perk in her voice before she hung up the phone, leaving Spencer with the cellular up near his face like a nervous teenage boy.

“Are you going to let me in or is the plan to stare at me until I disappear?” Maxine exhaled slowly, her eyelashes fanning down then up as she slowly blinked.

Spencer made a short, sweeping motion with his hand and moved to let her in, the hesitation written on his face as he furrowed his brow while closing the door. “You didn’t call. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Sometimes, I want to keep you guessing,” Maxine had been a subtle, welcomed surprise in his life but the tone in her voice was different as she leaned against the back of his sofa and narrowed her stare as he turned to look at her. “Can’t a girl be a little bit mysterious once in a while?”

“That would intimate that there was a need for something titillating and I didn’t think we’d gotten to the point where things were boring,” Spencer swallowed hard, the mental processes rocking as her smile took shape and the curves of her cheeks softened that stare for a moment. “Have we?”

“I didn’t say that,” Maxine coiled her index around the center button of his vest closure, lingering along the flat, pearl finish as she chewed the center of her lip and looked up at him. “I have moments where I can’t get it out of my head seeing her in your arms and I want to know if you think about it, too.”

Spencer knew she was referencing Cat as he nearly swallowed his tongue and stepped away from her, moving toward the kitchen to retrieve another glass to offer her wine. “I think I need a refill…would you like a glass? It’s from Garcia.”

“Sure,” Maxine had been taking notes, toying with Spencer in some way as she leaned against the armrest of the sofa and crossed her legs, perching there like an elegant bird as she studied his movements. “You’re not answering me which leads me to believe you have been thinking about her.”

“I have a photographic memory, Max,” Spencer was pouring her a glass near his own, the contents of his dwindling bottle evident as it became lighter in his hand. “I’m incapable of not recollecting pieces of my history at any given moment of the day.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Spence,” Maxine’s tongue lingered on his name as she went to the record player and moved the needle until the downbeat of Annie Lennox’s “Cold” began filling the room. “I have eyes. I can tell myself on a daily basis that it wasn’t loaded but there has been a part of me that just wonders…”

Don’t I exist for you

Don’t I still live for you

(Cold, cold, cold)

“You’re not her,” Spencer extended the glass of wine and watched her big, bright eyes track up his arm until they met a gaze they’d never seen before as a swallow nearly betrayed his cool exterior. “You don’t need to be.”

Maxine took a sip and scrutinized his body language as he battled with nerves and a desire that hadn’t quite manifested all of the way in front of her yet. “I really want to believe you but I feel like I was just the safe choice to keep you from looking inward. I don’t want to be your crutch.”

“You’re not a safe choice and you’re definitely not my crutch, Max,” Spencer’s tongue was loosening as he raised his glass to his lips, watching her from the rim until he tipped it to drink. “You have been so much more even though I’m the worst at elucidating it.”

“I know that she’s dangerous and you seemed to like that about her,” Maxine pressed her lips together, mingling the wine with her lip gloss as she moved them gently back and forth while angling her chin down just a touch. “Saying what you mean really isn’t your forte…you should be trying your hand at showing it for a change.”

The comment was loaded but Maxine wasn’t wrong about her observation as she blurred the line drawn in the sand with her toe, palming the glass as the distance between them seemed like miles. Spencer wanted to be gutsy and the wine was dulling the separation between bravery and stupidity as he held the bottle in the air, tilting it toward her like a peace offering. Maxine met him in the middle, letting him fill the glass until the last drops splashed into the deep, claret liquid. The sound of Annie Lennox over their mutual silence only added to a sense of anticipation between them as Spencer let the bottom of the bottle touch the top of the table with a resonating clink.

Dying is easy

It’s living that scares me to death

I could be so content

Hearing the sound of your breath

“It’s a little pathetic that it took a couple glasses of wine to cross the proverbial bridge, Max,” Spencer nearly melted into the floor over her fingers around his tie as she tugged it loose from the deep green and gray woven blend of his vest. “Gives a whole new meaning to the words failure to launch, doesn’t it?”

“I see no failure in anything going on but you’re definitely going to have to tell Garcia this wine is fabulous,” Maxine grinned from behind her glass, the warmth gathering at the back of her throat with each sip as she looked up at him. “You’re overthinking being here in front of me. Do I make you nervous, Spence?”

“Only since the second I met you,” Spencer wouldn’t have ordinarily admitted it but the combination of the wine playing on his inhibitions and her free hand tugging his tie was more than enough to tip the scales. “You’re one of the few women that I’ve encountered that speaks her mind so freely and it never ceases to amaze me. It isn’t danger that I seek, though…I need you to know that.”

“You’re talking around the subject as though you think I’ll be bruised by what you’ll say to me,” Maxine gave the satin material between her fingers a firm tug, bringing Spencer off balance as she elevated to the tips of her toes to nibble the curve of his lip, tasting the wine that had stayed behind. “Stop being afraid of the possibilities for once in your life.”

The needle began to stutter against the center of the record player as Spencer elevated his glass to his lips, finishing the last drops in a final swallow. Reluctance nagged at him as he pulled his tie free and moved around to the extensive collection of vinyl, thumbing through until he found Annie’s album Medusa sticking out from a section of her others. It was something about the combination of wine, Maxine, and an impromptu confessional that had him desiring the sound of Annie Lennox crooning in the background. It was an odd thing, though, that he couldn’t remember the last time either of these records had been played, let alone the last time he wanted to keep hearing more than classical emanating from his speakers.

“The curse of the romantic is a greed for dreams, an intensity of expectation that, in the end, diminishes the reality,” Spencer had her captivated as he managed to dull and heighten seduction in the same breath as he placed his glass next to the empty bottle of wine.

“Marya Mannes?” Maxine still had a fair amount left of her drink in the glass as she eclipsed the distance and leaned against him, arching up to breathe against his neck. “All really great lovers are articulate, and verbal seduction is the surest road to actual seduction.”

“I had thought about going with that one but I figured you’d see right through me,” Spencer was already identifying the notes of her perfume and body butter as she directed his chin down with her fingers while she extended her arm to put her glass down. “Is this why you didn’t text or call?”

White tea, sage, a hint of citrus. The combination was intoxicating, but not overwhelming. Delicate and sophisticated, but not girly.

“Talking myself into coming over here with a singular goal in mind and arguing with the resistance against it?” Maxine tasted his lips again, letting a kiss develop as she ran her fingers through his hair and steered his hand around her before looking into his hazel eyes. “Agonized all day over the potential for rejection.”

“And now?” Spencer let her tug his jacket off and toss it aside, knocking over a stack of previously read novels on the coffee table in the process. “Feeling particularly brave or brave enough to get by?”

“Actually, I’m contemplating the impracticality of seduction when one wears as many layers as you do,” Maxine laughed as she popped the buttons free on the vest, loosening his tie as the front of his shirt finally peeked out. “How long does it take to undress alone when you wear this much? You better not be wearing an undershirt like the prim and proper man I think you might be.”

Spencer had a bright pink sheen to his cheeks as he fiddled with the delicate material of her cardigan, folding it open across her shoulders over the top of a chemise while his eyes stayed balanced on hers. “I don’t think I get dressed thinking I’m going to have anyone trying to seduce me. I thought this was a good, sensible choice for attire when I was arranging clothes for the week.”

“The week?” Maxine’s lips curved into a grin as she loosened his tie and gave it a tug, freeing it from his collar in a smooth motion while she licked her lips and watched the nervousness form on his face. “You really are hyper-vigilant aren’t you?”

Maxine beamed up at him as her thumbs slid underneath of the top of his vest, guiding it away from his arms until he was casual in nothing more than a linen shirt and his slacks with those dark, houndstooth patterned socks. Spencer was captivated but his analytical eye was paying attention to the little swell of her lip as it moved between her teeth between sharp inhales. Maxine was controlling her breaths and giving him ample opportunity to read her, learning the little things that drove her crazy even as she was trying to explore him and push his limits.

“No, I’m a specific planner so I can fit everything in a suitcase with enough foresight to anticipate the possibility of a longer than normal trip,” Spencer was rationalizing his anal-retentive behavior while Maxine was halfway down the front of his shirt, undoing each button without taking her eyes off of his. “…you’re unusually deft with buttons, has anyone told you that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that,” Maxine had him in a tailspin to the point that his rear bumped against a bookshelf as she curled her index to draw him forward. “I really am making you anxious. It’s written from the top of your head right down to your toes.”

“I take it back, you are a little dangerous,” Spencer swallowed another knot of nervous energy, the cold air wafting across bare skin as the linen fell away from his chest and abdominal musculature, exposing the expanse of gooseflesh as the light caught the pale gleam of his skin. “I have officially sobered up.”

“I have to find a way to keep it interesting,” Maxine had previously admired the constant politeness from Spencer but she wanted something more from him as she felt havering fingertips against her collarbone. “We’ve tiptoed around each other for long enough and we both have nothing to lose.”

The soft declaration was an invitation and the fire in her eyes simply provided the spark as Spencer took that leap to pull her in, taking the lead. Studying the rhythm of her beating heart on nights they’d spent wrapped in each other’s arms on his couch watching an obscure movie together had given Spencer just enough ammunition of where begin and how to continue. Maxine had also begun to learn patterns of Spencer’s subtle bits of signaling, though, as she felt his hands down her arms, guiding the sleeves away from soft skin. She expected nothing less from him as his agonizingly sweet, tantalizing care with each part of her elevated the pace of her breath and pushed forth urgency as she watched him slip to his knees with each nibble of skin along her stomach.

“You can’t tell me that you didn’t think about your outfit before you put it on, Max,” Spencer was pushing boundaries and hiking up her skirt, tugging at the nylons that were barely masking the natural porcelain skin that captivated him. “The material, the color…the fit…everything is has a purpose and my assumption is you changed clothes before you came here.”

“Ah, fuck,” Maxine held onto the edge of the stereo stand as Spencer bit down on the space above her belly button and pulled her nylons down, pushing his fingertips against her skin to awaken the goosebumps. “I did. I had on jeans before and wanted something less, binding.”

“We’re not so different, then, are we?” Spencer led her out of the sensible Mary Janes and finished the removal of her nylons while the lace-trimmed material of her panties peeked out from the bottom of her shoved up skirt. “You’re breathing really hard, should I stop?”

“No, don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” Maxine breathed through a tight space between her lips as she gritted her teeth and gathered a fist full of his hair, holding him against her skin as his breath crept down, narrowing the fabric of her skirt into a bunched section at her hips. “Keep going.”

Spencer smirked as he tilted his chin up, rubbing the five o’clock shadow of his jaw against her until the moan left her lips and her knees involuntarily parted. “Could do a study on the action versus reaction of my mildly unshaven face versus different parts of your body…using the pitch of your groans as a baseline.”

“Oh, my God,” Maxine tossed her head back, narrowly missing a shelf of books behind her, the smile on her face as she felt the curve of his jaw move to her thighs, eliciting a lower, more drawn-out whimper. “How did you make that sound hot as fuck?”

“Intelligence doesn’t have to inspire a chorus of yawning,” Spencer hadn’t had an opportunity to undress anyone in far too long but the feeling of Maxine’s goosebump covered flesh against his lips encouraged his hands to continue as the skirt was discarded onto the growing heap. “It can make you moan over and over.”

“You are going to get so many complaints from your neighbors,” Maxine bit down on her lip as Spencer nibbled his way up her stomach, dragging fingers along the curve of her body until it met the soft layer of chemise to lift it away. “I want all of you…right now.”

Rational, well-constructed thoughts and actions went out a window as Spencer stood, the material of Maxine’s chemise between his fingers as he felt her warmth radiating against his bare stomach. It had only been minutes and the tables had flipped as Maxine looked up at him with a growing throb between her thighs, an ache becoming a need as she moved her knee forward, rubbing his inner thigh with it. The wait had been worth it even as Spencer let Maxine tug the belt from the loops and pop a button from the thread in an eager attempt to free him from his confines. Spencer had a mind for painstaking enticement but Maxine was less-than-apt to follow along with his pace as her teeth found his collar on a shirt that didn’t belong on his uniquely-well-built frame, tugging him close.

“Jesus…Christ,” Spencer uttered the words as a budding erection pushed against her while his slacks slid to his knees, trapping them together. “You’re going to wind up killing me.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Spence,” Maxine bit her lip and made a gap between the elastic waistband of his shorts and his skin while gazing up at him. “I want you to finish what you’ve started.”

Spencer’s eyes rolled as her index fingers grazed a flood of warmth as the erection continued to build, triggering an involuntary spasm as he squeezed her thigh and writhed the rest of the way out of his pants. Maxine gasped as Spencer’s eyes finally focused on hers and his grip slipped to her ass, giving her a decisive squeeze as the shelf behind her rattled again. Spencer covered a waiting moan with a fervent kiss, his tongue sliding beyond lips and teeth to find hers as one of his hands teased the satin and lace trim between her thighs. She was already soaked as his middle finger pressed the material along the tender flesh until he could feel the building twitch against his palm as she bucked against his hand.

Maxine tossed her head back a second time and felt the cool air for a fleeting moment as Spencer guided the thin, wet material to one side to slip his middle finger inside of her. “Oh, my God, yes, yes, please!”

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer curled and withdrew his finger, repeating the motion as her moans directed toward the ceiling and echoed in the room. “The most cliché thing I could ever say while my finger is strumming but it’s so true—you are, so fucking beautiful.”

“Sex…is…cliché…and, fuck, don’t you dare stop,” Maxine cooed and helped him along, covering his hand with her own while giving his hard on a not-so-subtle squeeze as she ground against him.

Spencer wanted to shake the perfectly organized and categorized books free from their spot on the shelf as he shyly withdrew his finger and palm from her, the squeeze of her muscles grasping at him in his absence as he took a step back to admire her. Maxine let out a drawn-out whimper as she chewed her lip, watching his erection move against his boxers as he gave a final pull of his sleeves, rejecting the well-fitting linen onto the floor. There was a part of Spencer that didn’t want to rush as he watched her reach behind her back, the springy-click of her bra tapping against the well-constructed shelving behind her while she keened from the friction moving across her breasts. Maxine knew what she wanted and she was daring Spencer to move as he took another step forward, gliding the straps off of her shoulders then down her arms to reveal the ivory and flushed flesh that had been carefully hidden.

Beautiful might not have accurately described her as her chest heaved and responded to his touch as he bent to kiss a trail along the curve of her neck while his digits teased the alabaster and pink of her breasts. Maxine had been waiting, impatiently, for his hands and lips to make their mark as he worked his way down her curves, sloping past eager nipples and a soft stomach as he neared an apex. Spencer’s eyes looked up at her as her tongue slid off to the side of her lips while she watched him move, her fingers weaving through his locks as he liberated her of her underwear in a smooth, downward motion.

“Jesus, fuck, oh my God,” Maxine gripped his hair and the shelf at the same time as his mouth found wetness and his hand guided her leg higher, squeezing her thigh while he hummed against her lips, parting them with the flat of his tongue. “Spencer…I’m so close…”

Spencer slipped a finger into Maxine’s wetness and felt a quiver from her muscles before the nerves tapped against him, clamping down as he moved along her clit, grazing the tender bundle with his fingers before circling with his tongue. She telegraphed the movement, matching the synchronicity as hips betrayed her and bucked against his face, stuttering the sound of a groan as he ignored a throb between his own legs. He wanted this for her and he wanted to hear her as a prelude to more. The moans scattered and became louder as his mouth mimicked the eagerness her body was conveying until he heard his name proclaimed, raggedly from her lips.

“Do you need to stop?” Spencer’s erection would’ve been screaming if given a chance as he stood, licking the taste of her from his lips as she met his gaze. “I know that an orgasm can take a lot of energy out of most women.”

Maxine shook her head slowly and glanced at the bulge as it bumped against her, the smile creeping across her lips as she stood up straight, reaching for him. “I’m not most women.”

Spencer didn’t have time to let that comment absorb fully as the sensation of Maxine’s fingers wrapped around his cock was doing little for his processes, making every nerve over-fire as the cold air nipped at his backside. The electricity in the atmosphere increased as his shorts slid to his ankles, leaving nothing more between them than a breeze and the brewing heat from readied friction. The shelf didn’t stand a chance against their hedonism as Spencer guided Maxine’s legs around his hips, into a position that beckoned so much more than the intertwining of bodies. They collided and the space between them all but evaporated as Spencer thrust slow, burying himself inside of her as she came down to meet him.

Mouths met and the shelf shuddered from the top to the bottom as Spencer manhandled Maxine, rocking her backside against a smooth edge until a stack of books came tumbling down from the top. The mutual moaning blended with a series of laughs as he cradled her ass, moving her away from the unstable mess they’d created before carrying her to the sofa. Maxine maneuvered her way onto him as they tumbled onto the cushions, straddling his thighs as she took charge of the motion, giving him no time to recover before riding him. They had become a touch graceless as Spencer held onto her thighs while she rocked and swiveled her hips, repeating his name in a series of whispers as the whimpers rivaled his.

“I’m so close,” They both found the words as the murmur became a little closer to a wail.

Spencer grasped her wrists and pulled her close, rolling uncoordinatedly onto the floor, knocking the throw pillows in every direction in the process, as he made a valiant attempt to switch positions. A laugh left Maxine’s lips as they met the rug with a thud but was replaced with a drawn-out moan as Spencer thrust deep and flicked his tongue across a nipple. It lit a spark as the thrusts could barely be met and the movements became frenzied with every little move he made while sweat began to glimmer across the surface of their skin. Maxine tilted her head back as the climax hit her in a rush and set off the one waiting in the wings from Spencer; the flood gates opened and the cries reverberated until their rhythm finally slowed.

“I think I bruised my tailbone,” Maxine groaned as they stayed wrapped around each other on the floor, breathing hard as muscles continued to spasm while the room spun.

Spencer snagged the pillows from their discarded roll before groping for the throw blanket on the edge of the couch to cover up with, glancing back at the mess of books that were now all over the floor across the room. “It’s going to take at least an hour to re-organize that shelf.”

@rationalcashew @monikafilefan I know this is not our normal but...ahhhh

Oh, I should tag @nerys2 @blameitonthenight21 @haleydiamondis since they liked the post I made about Spencer :)

#Smut #Spencer Reid #Maxine Brenner #Criminal Minds #fanfiction #fanfic is life #angst #fluff #humor #trying to be smart so I hope I pulled this off #this is intellect and sex

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