#Kerry Reid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

regiawrites · 5 months ago

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And There Will Be No Tenderness - S.R

Warning(s): Sub!Spencer, Fem!Dom!Reader, Brief Overstimulation, Riding, General Idiocy Word Count: 6134 Summary: Y/N and Reid never see eye-to-eye, but one kiss changes everything.

Garcia hustled into the conference room as quickly as she could with the height of her hot pink pumps, fiddling with the remote as she moved. "Good morning, my lovelies," She greeted the team. "Sorry for the hurry, but this one's a bad one."

"When are they good ones?" Rossi asked dryly as he flipped open the manilla folder in his hands.

"An excellent point," she granted, "but this one is particularly bad."

She clicked the remote and a series of gruesome images appeared on the screen, so gruesome, in fact, that even Hotch's face twitched. Four women, clearly dead, were covered in blood, bruises, and an array of other injuries, although no two seemed similar.

"These unfortunate four are Kerry Whittingham, Jasmyn Willis, Carly Smythe and Louise Fresca," Garcia said, gesturing to each of the women as she did so. "All of these women have been missing for between 6 and 11 months, all reported missing by their families within a week of them vanishing."

"How have they been linked together?" Morgan asked. "They all have different causes of death."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. "Kerry Whittingham was evisceration, but it says here that Carly Smythe's cause of death was drowning. What's the connection?"

"That is where things get really bad," Garcia said with a grimace before clicking the remote again.

Four images of matching symbols appeared, each woman having the same mark burned into their wrists.

"Are those brands?" Y/N asked, horrified, making brief eye contact with JJ who mirrored her expression.

"Human trafficking, maybe?" Emily suggested and Garcia nodded.

"The local police department thinks so, yeah."

"So, they're being sold-" Y/N started, but was cut off by Reid scoffing 'Obviously'. She shot him a glare but spared him no response as she continued. "-and showing up dead. Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"Only on Jasmyn Willis," Garcia answered.

"So, they're not being sold to be sex slaves," Y/N guessed. "They're being sold to be killed."

"Or they're just being sold to whoever's interested," Reid contradicted, as he always did. "I doubt a human trafficker cares."

"But they WOULD," Y/N argued with a roll of her eyes. "If they were being traded for sex, the trafficker would be more concerned with keeping them alive."

"Y/L/N's right," Hotch said, and Y/N shot Reid a smug smile that he ignored. "A trafficker would want to keep the women alive so they could continue to bring in money. They're likely being kidnapped and traded with the sole purpose of being tortured and killed."

"What like some kind of sick eBay for serial killers?" Rossi asked, face twisted in disgust.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hotch sighed as he stood. "Wheels up in 20."

As the team filed out of the room, Y/N glared at Reid as they walked towards the bullpen. "Stop contradicting me at every chance you get, asshole!" she snapped at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he started, "research suggests that those who frequently use curse words are less intelligent than those that don't."

"Oh, shut up, Reid."

"Most likely due to a lack of adequate vocabulary," he continued.

"Shut up, Reid."

"I'm just saying, maybe you'd be less insecure about me 'contradicting' you if you-"

"If you're about to imply I'm an idiot, I will hit you," she told him, glaring up at him as they reached their desks. She leaned down to grab her go-bag from beneath her desk.

"You're also very quick to resort to threats of physical violence, which further suggests you have a lack of trust in your own intellect," he said, grabbing his own go-bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Don't profile me, Reid," she said, voice flat and unamused, before she turned and headed out.

Trailing after her, Reid said, "I'm not profiling you; I'm making an observation about a coworker."

"And your observation is that I'm stupid?"

"I don't think you're stupid," he said with a shrug, and Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"You don't?"

"You're a qualified profiler, you can't be stupid," he said. "I do, however, think you're reckless, untrusting of yourself and quick to jump to conclusions."

"I'm not untrusting of myself," she argued, though she couldn't say she wasn't reckless. She was notorious for thinking with her heart and acting on impulse.

"If you weren't, my contradictions wouldn't bother you."

"That is so not how that works!" she snapped. "How would you feel if every time you said anything, someone was like 'uhm, actually'?" As she said 'uhm, actually', her voice slipped into a high-pitched, nasally lilt, and she mimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose.

They reached the elevator, and continued to bicker as they stepped inside.

And for the whole elevator ride down.

And for the whole walk to the jet.

Mercifully, the pair sat at opposite ends of the jet, and didn't talk to each other for the flight, so the team had some peace.

***

Within a few hours, the team was set up in the conference room of a police station in Pasadena, Captain Ray Jenkins sitting among them. He was a tall, portly man with a thick moustache and a heavy brow.

"So, the suspect you have in custody had DNA matching two of the victims in the back of his van?" Y/N asked Jenkins.

"Yes, and he also had Carly Smythe's engagement ring in his glove box," he told them, showing them a picture of a diamond ring. "He's remaining silent, though."

"I'd like to talk to him," she said, and Jenkins nodded. From somewhere beside her, Reid snorted, and she turned to glare at him. "What?"

"I'm shocked you want to talk to him, is all," he commented with a tight-lipped smile.

"Why would I not want to talk to a suspect?" she demanded, and he shrugged.

"Talking involves patience. And tact."

"Oh, 'tact' says the most awkward person I've ever met," Y/N snapped. "I've had to watch you talk to women before, you don't have much tact then."

Reid turned to face her straight on and level her with a glare, but Hotch held a hand up. "Don't start," was his only warning, effectively shutting them both up. "Y/L/N, you talk to the suspect."

***

Kyle Hannigan was skinny.

That was the first thing Y/N had noticed about him as he sat across from her in the interrogation room.

Skinny and short.

There was no way this man kidnapped those women, at least not on his own.

"You didn't kill those women, Kyle," Y/N said, leaning on the desk between them, flipping through the pictures.

"That's what I've been saying all this time," he huffed back, testy. As irritated as he sounded, he looked unnerved as his eyes flicked to-and-from the photographs of the mutilated women.

"You don't even know who killed them, do you, Kyle?" she pushed.

"No!"

"I don't even think you touched them," she said, fighting back a smile when he raised a questioning brow at her. "I mean look at you-" she gestured to him, "-you're short, you're skinny. Jasmyn Willis was 5'9 and a weightlifter, she could have fought you off blindfolded." Kyle's jaw ticked at the insult, but he remained silent. "You're just the delivery driver."

He stared at her, dark eyes looking up through his brows.

"So, if you're just the delivery driver, who got those women into the van, Kyle?" she asked. "And more importantly, who's running the operation?"

He continued to stare at her, silent.

"You know, whoever's above you in the food chain is absolutely going to let you go to prison for this," she told him. "Hell, they probably want you to take the fall. You gain nothing by protecting these people."

"It'll be my word against his, and no one will believe me over him," he said, low and slow, leaning towards her with a glare. "So, what's the point?" She, too, leaned forward and matched his fiery glare with a cool, flat stare.

"Your word against who's, Kyle?"

His eyes flicked towards the one-way mirror behind her, then back down to her, and she didn't miss the desperation in his eyes.

He wanted to tell her.

He looked up at the CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room.

"Who?"

He continued to stare at her before raising his right hand, forming it into a claw shape and tapping it to his shoulder.

"That's all you're getting out of me," he said, before folding his arms over his chest.

***

"A claw shape that he tapped to his shoulder?" JJ asked. "What does that mean?"

"It's ASL," Reid said matter-of-factly, pulling out his phone.

"And what's it ASL for?" Jenkins asked him, and Reid shrugged. "I thought you were a genius."

"That doesn't mean I'm all-knowing," Reid said, simply. He began typing something into his phone.

"Great load of good that is, then," Jenkins grunted. "What do we do now?"

"Our tech analyst is looking through his cell phone history to see if there's any suspicious activity that could be an accomplice," Hotch informed him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to Jenkin's reply as her phone vibrated.

She unlocked it and, surprised to see a text from Reid, she looked up to give him a questioning look, but he was pointedly not looking at her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped on the notification and had to force her face to remain neutral.

Reid: It's ASL for Captain.

And that was how Reid and Y/N found themselves snooping around Jenkin's office, looking for incriminating evidence. After forwarding Reid's text to Hotch and Garcia, she slipped into his office, followed by Reid.

"This is not how we're supposed to do this!" Reid hissed at her as she rifled through one of his drawers while he kept watch. "Nothing you find like this will be admissible in court."

"Yeah, yeah," she grunted, closing the drawer as quietly as she could before opening the next one down.

"We're going to get caught."

"Not if you do a good job keeping watch, we won't," she said, reaching for a drawer with a lock on it. She pulled and it didn't budge. "Shit, it's locked," she mumbled, looking around the desk for a paperclip, which she found in a small plastic cup, and bent it into an L-shape.

"What are you doing?" Reid whispered, panicked and stepped away from the door.

"Keep watch!" she hissed back, wiggling the paperclip around and managing to twist the mechanism, unlocking the drawer. "Aha!"

"Why am I not surprised you can do that?" Reid asked, not looking at her. She glared at the back of his head.

"Because I'm a cornucopia runneth over of useful skills," she snarked as she started digging through the drawer.

"Sure, that's why," he said, but she paid no mind as she started flicking through a folder she found.

"Holy shit, Reid, I got something," she said, and he spun around to look at her.

"What, really?" he asked, walking over to her and she tilted the folder so he could see it. "Is that-?"

"Carly Smythe, yeah."

From Y/N's hands, Carly Smythe's bruised, but very alive, face stared back at them from in front of a dirty wall. She was only wearing a white tank top in the picture, and her hair was flat and greasy, eyes hardened as she glared at the camera.

This picture wasn't a part of the investigation.

The picture was stapled to another sheet of paper, one with messy writing scrawled over it.

Carly

140lbs

5'6

Brown eyes

Brown hair

No Tattoos

Limited known sexual history

Sweet voice

$10k min

$33k to Poseidon

"Oh my God," Reid muttered.

"She isn't the only one either," Y/N said, flipping through the rest of the pages, through profiles of several women, including the four known victims. "We have to get this to Hotch."

Before Reid could say anything, they heard Jenkins' voice coming from somewhere outside. Y/N's heart dropped.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" she whispered accusatorily at Reid, who sputtered out a response she didn't listen to as she lifted her shirt and shoved the folder into her pants, covering it when her shirt fell back down.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, eye flicking Wilding between her and the door as Jenkins' voice got closer.

"Smuggling this out of here," she said, like it should have been obvious.

"And what excuse are you going to give him for us being in here?" he demanded, holding his hands up in distress.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Kiss me!"

And he did.

As the door handle turned, he surged forward and their mouths connected, lips crashing together.

Reid grabbed Y/N's hips, pulling her body towards his as his tongue glided over hers, taking her by surprise as he took complete control of the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging it at the roots.

He whined into her mouth, and all higher thought ceased in Y/N's mind.

Pulling his hair harder, she kissed back with a punishing harshness, vaguely registering her ass hitting the desk as Reid pushed her against it, sliding his hands from her hips up to her waist, around her back and pulling her back against him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it, making him whimper in a way that had her whole body heating up in response.

"Ahem."

Gasping, they tore away from each other and spun towards the door to see Jenkins smirking at them. "I don't think that's an appropriate workplace activity, Agents," he commented, and Y/N grinned in faux sheepishness.

"Sorry, it’s all new," she said, pushing Reid away from her less harshly that she ordinarily would. "We can't keep our hands off of each other."

"I won't tell your Captain, don't worry, sweetheart," he said, a look in his eye as he turned his gaze to her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Both Y/N and Reid managed to get out of the room, and the folder shoved into the front of Y/N's pants felt like it weighed a tonne.

It took less than 24 hours before Jenkins was on the other side of police custody, coughing up information about his clientele.

Six days later, four other men had been arrested for the murders of the women, and had several other murders linked to them.

Three weeks later, the Team had busted a huge ring of human trafficking.

One month later, Y/N was still thinking about that kiss.

Each member of The BAU had been rewarded (read: forced to take) a two-week period of leave after the events of the bust. Morgan had been shot, Rossi had a joint dislocated and, all-in-all, it was an incredibly stressful time.

Five days in and Y/N was going stir-crazy from both the boredom and the haunting thoughts of Reid’s mouth on hers. Every so often her mind would wonder to the plush look of his lips, or the intense furrow of his brow, or- when she was particularly out of control- the whine he’d made against her lips when she pulled his hair.

By day seven, she’d exhausted her Netflix subscription and had purchased Disney plus.

By day nine she’d nearly finished The Golden Girls and was out-of-her-mind bored.

As Dorothy made a snide comment, Y/N’s phone notification went off, and she practically jumped on it in all her enthusiasm. Her enthusiasm promptly dissipated when she realised the text was from Reid, and she rolled her eyes.

Reid: Are you busy?

You: No why?

Reid: I’m bored.

You: Okay and?

Reid: Are you telling me you’re not?

You: Well obviously but I didn’t text you to complain about it

Reid: Can I come over? Everyone else is busy. I’ll buy you pizza.

You: I can buy my own pizza

Reid: It tastes better when it’s free, no?

You: Fine you can come but if you don’t have the pizza I’m not letting you in

Reid: Deal. I’ll be there in an hour.

Oh, God, Reid was coming over.

She tidied up her living area, even rearranging the throw pillows on her couch before looking down at the ratty T-shirt she was wearing and had been wearing for a least three days. She debated leaving it on, but your skin tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Reid seeing it and she reluctantly decided to change.

But she couldn’t change into clean clothes without showering.

And if she was showering anyway, she may as well shave.

But if she shaves without exfoliating, she gets ingrown hairs.

That dangerous train of logic is what compelled her to take an ‘everything shower’, listening to music while she pampered her skin and ridded herself of all body hair. For Reid of all people too, to add insult to injury. He probably wouldn’t even appreciate it, not that she’d give him the chance to appreciate your silky-smooth legs, but still. Some acknowledgements of her immense efforts wouldn’t go amiss.

She stepped out of the shower and slathered herself in vanilla-scented lotion, before dressing into a simple pyjama set consisting of loose (but very short), plaid shorts and a black tank top. The doorbell rang just as she slid her feet into her slippers. Checking the clock, she rolled her eyes when she realised it had been almost exactly one hour since his last text, the punctual motherfucker.

She shuffled to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it was actually Reid, snorting at the way the lens disfigured his face in a bizarre perspective, before letting him in. “Reid,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could when she wanted to tear into the pizza box that he was holding. It wasn’t lost on her that it was from her favourite local place.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in much the same tone, stepping in and slipping his shoes off and revealing a mismatched pair of truly bizarre socks, setting them on the shoe-rack beside the door. He’d known her for long enough to know she absolutely did not tolerate shoes inside her home, and she tried not to feel fond.

“That pepperoni?” she asked, jerking her head towards the pizza box.

“Obviously,” he said, shooting her a distinct look of irritation, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Hey, I don’t know your life,” she snapped. “You could be one of those freaks that like Hawaiian.”

“You know, it’s widely considered fact that the components of balanced flavour are ‘salt, acid and sugar’, so by that logic, a Hawaiian Pizza would-“

“Oh my God, you’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already doing the thing,” she groaned, taking the pizza box from him and walking to the living area.

“What thing?” he asked, following behind her.

“The ‘uhm, actually’ thing!” she says, plopping down onto the couch and setting the box on the coffee table. He rolled his eyes again and sat down next to you, not deigning to respond.

Silence settled over the two of them.

Dying for anything to relieve the awkwardness, Y/N leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, aware of Reid’s eyes on her. She turned to shoot him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her gaze and pointedly stared at the TV.

Fuck, his jaw was sharp, and his neck was an elegant arch.

An echo of his desperate whine ricocheted in her head for a moment as she stared at him.

Such a sweet noise from such sweet lips, pillowy and plush against hers. If a kiss was all it took to wring noises like that from him, she couldn’t help but be curious what noises he’d make if she put her hands places that weren’t his hair...

When he swallowed and cleared his throat, she snapped out of her stupor and chewed on her slice, turning back to the TV.

Half an hour later, neither of them had said anything. At some point, Y/N had taken the half-eaten pizza into the kitchen, and bought back a bottle of water for Spencer, who nodded in gratitude, but the awkward silence remained.

They snuck glances at each other, but it became apparent they didn’t know how to be civil with one another.

“So,” Y/N started clumsily. “You done anything interesting on your leave? “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat “-Re-read some of my favourite works in their original languages, I wanted to see if they held any nuances that got lost in their translation.” “Interesting,” Y/N said. “I imagine that killed time for about a day.”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long,” Reid laughed quietly. “I’ve spent the rest of the time writing to my mother and watching Doctor Who.” “It’s a good show. Tennant is the superior Doctor.” “Naturally,” Reid agreed, shockingly enough. “Although I’m partial to Eccleston for nostalgic reasons.”

“Who’s your favourite sidekick?” “Donna Noble,” he replied. “I think she had the most character, and her personality complimented The Doctor well.” “I thought Martha was cool, too,” Y/N said. “Even though she was obviously just a rebound for The Doctor to try to get over Rose.” “Some of my favourite episodes are from when Martha was on the show,” he told her and she smiled, smally at him.

“Really?” “Yeah! ‘The Waters of Mars’ was incredible!” Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way his eyes lit up and his mouth broke into a wide grin, deciding to ignore it. “Oh, God, that’s the one where the water’s poisoned and makes the people at the station into- like- zombies, right?” Y/N asked, twisting around in her seat to face him properly. “That freaked me out. Like the one in the library.”

“Where River Song is first introduced?”

The conversation flowed with an ease that was unfamiliar to them after that, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than either of them thought.

It wasn’t long before they were sifting through Y/N’s streaming service subscription, settling on a horror movie they were both fond of.

The Fly.

“You know, even with the clunky visual effects, this movie is still incredible,” Reid commented quietly, not looking away from the screen.

“Probably because it’s a romantic tragedy more than a horror movie,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t need to rely on visuals, the story-telling does most of the heavy lifting.” She turned to him. “Although the ‘clunky visual effects’ are better than some CGI I’ve seen recently.” Reid laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

This was too weird, and it was making Y/N itch. It was making Y/N come closer to giving in to the urge to press her mouth to his.

“Shocking,” she said, drily, trying to shift their dynamic to what it normally was. “You usually contradict me every chance you get.” Reid stopped laughing and cast her a side-ways glance.

“I’m simply correcting you,” he said.

“My asshole you are,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t start with the whole ‘people who curse are less intelligent’ shit, or I will throw you out, pizza and all.” “And to think we managed to have several civil conversations,” he groaned, taking a sip of his water and rolling his eyes. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” “I’m being perfectly civil,” Y/N said, knowing full-well that she wasn’t. “Just admit that you get off on proving to everyone that you’re smarter than them.” “You have no idea what I get off on,” he snapped, turning to her. When their eyes met, time stilled for a moment.

She’d never noticed before how his deep, brown eyes flashed gold in the light.

“What do you get off on then?”

The question had escaped her lips without her permission, and she abruptly snapped it closed as they looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked wearing a look of pure shock, like he didn’t even believe he’d heard her correctly.

“Nothing!” she practically squawked, looking away from him and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up.

“Did you just ask me what I get off on?” he choked out, looking incredulously at you as you awkwardly looked at him, looking away again immediately.

“Pfffft, no,” you lied, stupid as he’d clearly heard her.

“You totally did!”

“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admitted. “It kinda just slipped out, I don’t actually wanna know.” “Don’t you?” he asked, voice dropping into a husky tone she didn’t know he was capable of.

She gaped at him, not even knowing what to say. “I-“

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since we kissed,” he told her, leaning forward. “Your eyes keeping dropping to my lips, and your pupils dilate when they do.” He leaned in closer to her. “You also keep absentmindedly biting, licking and playing with your lower lip when you look at me.” “…So?” she asked, not denying it. They both know he was too good a profiler to lie to, especially about something he’d observed himself.

“So, you can’t stop thinking about it,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And you want to do it again.” When she didn’t say anything, he moved closer to her, so close, in fact, that they could feel each other’s breath puffing onto their faces.

“Do you want to know why I really asked you if I could come over tonight?” he asked, lips so close to hers it was agony.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I want that, too.” She gave in.

With both of her hands on his cheeks, she dragged him the extra inch forward and slotted her mouth against his, swallowing down a keen that threatened to bubble out at the contact. His long, deft fingers gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she followed his pull as elegantly as she could to land in his lap.

Immediately, and like she’d been wishing she could do for a long month, she sunk her fingers back into those brown curls and tugged. The soft noise he made against her lips was hardly the high-pitched whine that had haunted her, but it was enough to make her double her efforts, pressing her body against his and kissing him with poorly hidden aggression. He matched her sudden ferocity, sliding his hands around to her ass and squeezing hard enough to have her breath stuttering out of her chest. When he chuckled against her mouth, she bit down on his lower lip, just a quick tug in between her teeth, but it was enough to make him gasp, and she took that as her opportunity to pull his head back by his hair and look down at him.

Eyes blown out, cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip already kiss-swollen, he already looked like a mess.

“God, I want to fucking ruin you,” she hissed, grinding down over his hips and grinning wickedly at the firmness she felt against her. He whined, his eyes flicking upwards momentarily before he refocused on her face. “Please do,” he gasped, rocking his hips up against her, gripping her ass again.

“Already begging?” she teased. He glared at her, but it was hollow, before he reached up to grab the back of her neck and drag her to his lips again.

When their lips crushed against each other’s, Y/N’s hands immediately started to rip at Reid’s shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in her haste to get it off him. He whined into her mouth at her aggression, reluctantly taking his hands off her to slide the sleeves of his button up off his arms, leaving his chest bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest, trails of pink following her fingertips, and he arched into her with a sweet keen. She pinched his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, she slid her mouth across his jaw to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pausing to bite and suck at the sensitive juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh!” Reid moaned, thrusting his hips against her particularly hard at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh, God, Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” she taunted, continuing to leave marks on his neck, and continuing to tease his chest. She ground her hips against him far more firmly, speeding up her steady rhythm. “I don’t- I- Oh!” he struggled, breaking off into a whimper before he could get the words out.

“If I knew that this was all it took to get you to shut up, I’d have done it sooner,” she said, laughing cruelly when he glared at her. Still choking out a chain of whimpers and whines, he slid his hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts, long, deft fingers pinching her nipples harshly in retaliation. She squeaked, shocked, turning to him with her own glare. He gave her a paradoxically shy little smirk, proud of himself, and it infuriated her.

When she pushed herself backwards, down his legs and away from the bulge in his pants, he whined in protest. She pulled his zipper open, shoving the soft fabric of his boxers to pull his cock out, hot and heavy in her palm; it was bigger that she thought it would be, definitely bigger than average, and delightfully thick. “Oh, God, what are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice breathless and desperate as he tried to buck into her hand, whining when her weight on his lap meant he couldn’t drive up enough to get any real friction.

“I’m gonna use you,” she told him, stroking his cock deliberately slow, squeezing around his sensitive head.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Until you can’t even think anymore.”

Nodding enthusiastically and gripping her hips, he tried to drag her back towards him, but she tsk’d. She placed a hand on his chest to push him onto the couch and used the leverage to stand up. Slowly, she began to push the waistband of her shorts down, the way he stared at the movement as though hypnotised flooded her brain with a heady feeling of power. “Reid?” she cooed, and it looked like it took a tremendous amount of effort for him to drag his eyes from her hips to her face.

“Ye-yeah?” he stuttered out, almost absentmindedly reaching for his cock and fisting himself in a loose grip. She bit her lip as she watched the tentative movement. “Do you have any condoms?” she asked, hoping to God he said yes. The hope was foiled when he looked at her with an expression of panic.

“No, shit, no, I don’t,” he huffed, and she could see him calling himself an idiot in his own head.

“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control,” she said. “Are you-?”

“Yes, I’m clean, Y/N,” he said, a pleading look on his face. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for a whole month, please don’t make me wait.” Ordinarily, she’d tease him, but seeing as she had felt exactly the same way, she finished sliding her shorts down her legs, leaving them on the floor as she straddled him once again. She pushed her hips down on his, grinding her wet pussy over the throbbing heat of his cock and they both gasped. “Please, don’t tease,” he begged, looking up at her with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Just fuck me, oh my God, please.”

“Eager,” she teased and slapped her ass in retaliation, making her yelp and jolt forward, making her wetness slide over his cock once again. She started grinding down deliberately hard to get back at him.

He threw his head back and gasped, and she took that as a chance to start sucking and nibbling on the column of his throat.

It didn’t take long before he was whining in that sweet, sweet way that made her head spin. “Please!” he whimpered desperately, pushing his hips up to meet her movements, and she relented. Pulling away from his neck, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his cock.

“Fuck!” “Oh, God!”

He was fully inside of her, stretching her out in a dull ache as her adjusted to him. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she mumble, gently starting to rock as the ache lessened. He didn’t respond, and the glazed look in his eyes made her question if he’d even heard her. He grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh in a way she thoroughly appreciated.

Slowly, she started bouncing, and he screwed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the almost overwhelming feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, jaw going slack as she started moving faster.

It didn’t take long before they we both panting, flushed and desperate as the moved against each other. At some point, Reid had wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting wherever he could reach.

Y/N sunk her hands into his hair, gripping it tightly to keep him there as the brutal pace she had set brought her closer to the edge. The way he was practically sobbing into her neck told her he was close, too.

“Reid,” she panted, pulling his head away from her neck by his hair. He looked up at her, flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open, eyebrows hitched and eyes watery. He looked so fucked out she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her. “Are you close, baby?” she asked him with a cruel smirk, and he nodded pathetically, crying out when she gripped his hair tighter to cease the movement.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m so close!” “Don’t you dare cum before I do,” she hissed, leaning back a little so the hand that wasn’t in his hair could rub her clit.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but you feel so good! Ah, ah, please cum, please cum, please cum!”

His begging, desperate and needy, pushed her over the edge, her fingers on her clit and his cock filling her up as she toppled over the precipice of her orgasm. She cried out his name as her walls shuddered around him, dragging him over too. He cried out, louder than he had before as his orgasm wreaked havoc on his body, his legs shaking and tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. He babbled an incoherent stream of pleas as oversensitivity kicked in, crying that it was too much as she rode her own orgasm.

Her bouncing slowed to a still and she fell against him, both breathing heavily and flushed.

It took several minutes for both to catch their breath, and for coherent thought to be functional again.

Y/N hurried into the bathroom to clean herself up and tried to not spiral into panic; not only had she has sex with a coworker and totally violated the fraternisation policies at the bureau she’d had sex with Reid. Worse, she realised she didn’t regret it. She should, but she doesn’t, and she has never believed in being guilty about things that don’t warrant guilt.

She supposed it was harmless, really. Honestly, if they had this new way of working out their animosity towards each other, they’d probably be more pleasant to be around.

So, really, fucking him was for the good of the team.

Yeah, I’m totally doing it for the team, she told herself as she finished cleaning herself up.

When she left the bathroom and returned to the living room, his shirt was back on his body and his cock was tucked back into his pants. He was sitting there looking so awkward it was painful, and he didn’t look at her when she sat beside him.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, and she sighed. “No, we shouldn’t have,” she agreed. He nodded, eyes not moving from his hands where they were folded in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I have condoms in my dresser,” she offered, laughing when his head shot up and he looked at her so incredulous it would have been offensive if it wasn’t so funny. “You don’t want to do it again?” “No, no, I do,” he rushed out with pinkening cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to! “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?” she asked.

Reid had quite possibly never moved so fast in his life as he followed her giggles to her bedroom.

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