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it-was-summer · 1 month ago

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The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle.

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle.

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,”

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,”

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?”

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.”

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly.

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least.

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.”

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now.

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?”

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively.

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name.

“That’s not-”

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone.

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.”

“I don’t believe in guns.”

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone.

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day.

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys.

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself.

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much.

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies.

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.”

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case.

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills.

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube.

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud.

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him.

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.”

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer.

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it.

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,”

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better.

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets.

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it.

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.”

“Who?”

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.”

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again.

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators.

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again.

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling.

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?”

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head.

“Is it the noise?”

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.”

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away.

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?”

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.”

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently.

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands.

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again.

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air.

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines.

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people.

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery.

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,”

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available.

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?”

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.”

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.”

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself.

“I’m Spencer.”

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket.

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.”

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,”

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello.

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?”

“Third.”

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?”

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.”

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello.

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.”

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat.

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.”

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.”

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.”

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.”

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously.

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest. A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is.

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air.

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn.

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection.

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own.

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film.

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible.

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie.

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you.

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sailorholly · 11 months ago

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Sixty Seconds

Summary: When you’re forced to share a room with your rival, sparks fly during a friendly competition.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Scratching. Orgasm denial. 69.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. BAU Reader

See my Masterlist Here

You toss your go bag in the corner of the hotel room. You don’t know how you always end up in these situations. You are in a new city for a case. It’s a tourist town, so the team was lucky to find any lodging at all. You expected you would have to share a room with someone. You just didn’t think it would be with him.

When the lady at the front desk told Hotch there was only four rooms left, everyone quickly paired up. Penelope tightly gripped Derek’s arm, claiming him. Hotch and Rossi nodded their confirmation to each other. JJ and Emily walked over to each other. You and Spencer were the only ones left. You both shared the look of disdain, dreading being stuck together.

You hadn’t been to the local police station yet. Hotch thought it would be best to find somewhere to stay first. You were all grateful he thought of it. There wasn’t a room left in the whole city. You didn’t even look around, just put your stuff down and hurried to the elevators.

When night fell, you were surprised to find there was only one bed in the room. This case was taking its toll on everyone and you were looking forward to relaxing under the covers, mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

Spencer hadn’t made it in yet, so you explore the room. You inspect the small sofa against the wall. Surely it had a pull out bed. You take the cushions off and sigh. It was just a normal sofa. When Spencer came in, he noticed the problem too. “I’m not sleeping on the couch.” You figured you better say it first. Spencer looks over at the small piece of furniture. “I wasn’t going to ask you to do that. I thought we could sleep in the same bed and be civil, like adults. But you have to fight with me about everything.”

You can feel the anger surging through you. “I don’t like to fight with you, but you leave me no choice. Of course, we can sleep in the same bed. I just didn’t think you would want to. You might be too tempted.” You smirk, watching his dark eyes travel every inch of your body. “The only thing I’d be tempted to do is push you off the bed.”

You roll your eyes, gathering your pajamas and toiletries out of your bag. “I’m going to take a shower first.” When you’re finished, you start to panic. You thought you would have a room to yourself or that you would be with the girls at the very least. So all you brought to sleep in was a crop top and panties. You put it on, worried you might have to sleep in jeans so Spencer would be comfortable.

But his words from earlier echoed in your mind. It shouldn’t be a problem since he doesn’t find you attractive. You walk out confidently, Spencer glances up at you from his spot on the sofa where he was reading. You watch as his eyes linger on the thin crop top where your hardened nipples peak through the shirt.

He drops his gaze to the floor when he notices you watching him. He stands, gathering his belongings and walking to the bathroom. You get in the bed to check your text messages. Spencer comes out wearing a white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants. He gets in beside you, the bed dipping as he settles in.

You put your phone on the charger, turning off the lamp on the nightstand beside you. You thought sleep would come easily, considering the exhausting day you had. But you lay there in uncomfortable silence for what feels like hours. You turn the lamp back on, turning toward Spencer, surprised to find him facing you. “Can’t sleep?” He asks, his dark eyes glancing at your chest.

You decide to tease him a little. You might as well get some enjoyment out of this undesired arrangement. You lay on your back raising your chest and sighing. “It’s just so hot in here, I’m uncomfortable.” You lie, tossing the blanket off your body, exposing more of yourself to him. You run your hands over yourself, lifting your crop top to underneath your breasts.

You watch Spencer’s breath hitch as you sigh loudly, hands traveling down your stomach. He watches intently as you reach the top of your panties, snapping the waist band. “If I was alone, I’d be sleeping naked by now.” You sit up, your chest right in his face. Spencer shifts in his place on the bed. You watch as he moves his legs awkwardly, you notice he’s turned on.

Spencer Reid wants you. You smile, “I thought you wouldn’t be tempted by me, Reid.” He scrunches his nose up. “It’s not because of you. It’s a natural reaction to sharing a bed with a barely dressed woman. It has nothing to do with you.” You decide to push him a little further, so you climb on top of him, reaching for his hands. He goes still under your touch.

You place his limp hands on your hips. “Wha- what are you doing?” You squirm on top of him, feeling his hardness underneath you. “Proving my point. I saw you checking me out. I know you want me.” He tightens his grip on your hips, “Keep dreaming, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you if we were the last people on Earth.” You laugh, “That’s okay, you wouldn’t be able to get me off anyways.”

You try to swing a leg off him to remove yourself, but he stops you. “Wanna bet?” You study his face, he has to be joking. “Bet what, that you can make me cum?” You shake your head, he’s being ridiculous. “I’m not worried about that. I’ll make you cum so hard, that you’ll only think of me every time you get off. How about we make it a competition?”

Now you’re interested. You love competing with each other. “What kind of competition?” He runs his thumb against the soft skin of your leg, thrusting upward, causing you to moan. He smirks, pleased with himself. “I’ll set a timer and the first to bring the other to orgasm wins.”

“So we have an unlimited amount of time to do this and just whoever cums first loses?” You ask, trying to understand the rules. “An infinite amount of time is too broad. I only need a minute.” He states confidently. “A minute as in sixty seconds?” You ask, shocked.

“If you don’t think you can do it in the allotted time then-“ “I can do it. I was just repeating the rules.” He smiles, knowing you just lied. “Let’s get naked first so it doesn’t take up any time.” He agrees by shedding his clothes. Your hands tremble a little as you lift your crop top over your head. You don’t understand why you’re reacting this way. It’s just Spencer. You blame it on the adrenaline of competing with him. “Are we going one at a time or-“

“We go at the same time so it’s fair.” He lays on his side, motioning for you to lay the opposite way, with your face by his hard cock. “Seriously, we are going to 69?” You giggle. You haven’t done this since you were in high school. He doesn’t answer as he swipes on his phone. “Time starts now.” He informs you, his beautiful face settling between your legs.

Long fingers dig into your thighs as he begins his torture. Long licks cover you as he explores you. Your wet mouth slides down his length, lips closing around him. He moans for you as you dig your nails into his thighs, pulling him as close as you can.

Spencer’s talented tongue switches from slow drags to quick flicks. Your legs shake, you’re so close already. You hadn’t expected it to be like this. You thought he would cum in the first few seconds, but it didn’t seem like he was close at all. He buries his face deeper, his tongue swirling in intricate patterns that make your head swim. Probably tracing some math thing, you decide.

You suck in your cheeks around him, one hand covering what couldn’t fit in your mouth. His lips seal around your clit, sucking lightly. You whimper as your nipples rub against his smooth skin. Your demise begins when you look down at him. His messy hair moving with every tilt of his head. This isn’t an image you want to forget any time soon.

You realize your mistake as your orgasm hits, crashing into you like a wave. You squeeze your thighs around his head, chanting his name like a prayer. You can feel his cocky smirk against you as he laps up his victory. The alarm goes off as you come down from your high.

Spencer presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You sit up giving him a death glare. “I don’t want to hear it.” You really shouldn’t be acting like a sore loser when you lost in the best possible way. You lay down beside him, instinctively reaching for his hand. “Don’t get any ideas, I still hate you.” He quickly removes his hand from yours.

You lift your eyebrows, ready to challenge him again. “Then fuck me like you hate me.” You don’t have time to react. Spencer is on top of you pinning your arms above your head with one large hand wrapped around your wrists. You tilt your hips as Spencer sinks into you. He buries his face beside your neck. His sharp teeth sink into the soft skin, earning a hiss from you.

You arch your back, taking him impossibly deeper. You’ve never had sex like this before. It’s fast, intense, and demanding. You move in a frenzy, bodies crashing into each other. Spencer pins you against the mattress with his hips as he fucks you roughly.

Each snap of his hips drags your clit deliciously against his pubic hair. The once silent room is now noisily filled with the sweet moans and pants escaping you. Spencer groans as you clench around his cock.

He slows his thrusts, his expression almost sinister. “I don’t think you deserve to get off again. All that big talk and you were cumming on my tongue forty three seconds in. I think you should be punished for your hubris.” His cock slowly drags against your walls and you feel tears flood your eyes. You don’t mean to whimper, but you were close again.

“Shh, shh don’t cry, pretty girl. I might let you, if you beg me.” Another torturously slow thrust, and the tears fall down your cheeks. “In your dreams, Reid.” You struggle against his hold on your wrists, but it’s no use. He still has you trapped right where he wants you.

“Come on, admit it. You need me.” He sounds more sure of himself than normal. You want to be annoyed, but he’s right. You’re desperate. “Please.” You give in. He smiles, thrusting a little harder this time. “Please what? Use your words.”

“Please let me cum. I promise I’ll be a good girl. I need you. Please, Spencer?” He senses the sincerity in your voice. “That’s more like it.” He snaps his hips forcefully, releasing your hands. They immediately cling to his back, scratching and clawing at him as he hits all the right spots.

He hooks one arm under your back, bringing you closer. Your cries and mewls encourage him to go faster. “Ah f-fuck. You’re being such a good girl for me.” His praises make you flutter around him. He reaches between you to circle your clit. You cry out as you shatter beneath him, nails digging so deep, they could draw blood.

You feel his thrusts grow sloppy as he spills into you. He pulls you against him, “This doesn’t mean anything.” He almost whispers against your shoulder. You hum your agreement, enjoying the moment.