Mary Cyn
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Smutfic 2: Kinky Boogaloo
🕑 Added 2021-07-10 17:58:29 +0000 UTCI finally finished the second chapter to my smutfic. I'm glad it's got me writing again and I'm really proud of how it turned out. I do wish it was easier for me to write things that aren't porn. But mostly I'm happy to be writing at all.
Anyway, here's the porn. This is much more kinky than the last chapter (which I've been told was NOT actually vanilla) so if you're not into rough stuff, this isn't the story for you.
Aaron Hotchner eats pussy like it's his goddamn job. And, just like he is at his job, he is diligent, dedicated, and relentless.
His tongue swirls softly between my sensitive folds, slowly spiraling in towards my clit. His eyes are closed in concentration, black lashes stark against his skin. He has the look of a gourmand tasting a complex delicacy.
He’s sitting up, letting my body drape down so just my head and shoulders are on the bed. It gives him almost complete control of my body as I moan and writhe. As he zeros in on my clit, his eyes open to burn into mine. He’s watching my reactions as he finds just the right spot. My hips buck as he finds his target and his hands tighten their grip on my thighs. His movements become smaller, more focused, tongue flexing down to a point. I’m practically singing in pleasure, words are far beyond my capacity. His strong hands pull my legs even farther apart as he presses his face deeper into me.
“FUCK,” I scream, so I guess I’ve still got a couple words to fall back on. His lips purse as he lightly sucks my clit and a jolt goes through my body. The suction makes my clit even more vulnerable to the attack from his tongue and the sensation is unbelievable. It’s almost too much and my body struggles to regain some kind of control. But there’s no resisting Aaron Hotchner. Not when he knows what he wants and can see it coming, inevitable as the dawn. There’s a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he watches me flail.
I start to shake as my screams reach a fever pitch. My whole body contracts as I come. His fingers dig into my flesh, making sure I can’t pull away as he drives me through my orgasm. His movements soften as the aftershocks ride through my body. He gently lowers my hips back down to the bed, face still buried in my pussy. He’s determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from this moment but careful not to push me into over-sensitivity.
His licks slow down and back off as my breathing edges back to a normal pace. By the time I can actually think again he’s back to placing soft kisses on my lips, my thighs, my hips, my belly. He gives me all the time I need to come back to reality.
"Goddamn," I pant, when I can finally trust my command of language again. "do they teach pussy eating at Quantico?"
"Fifteen years with the same woman," he wipes a hand over his lips. "I was bound to learn a few things."
"So it was more like post graduate work?"
"Independent study, yes." His smile is radiant. It might be the first full smile I’ve seen from him.
I laugh and pull him up to lie beside me. He props himself on one arm, trailing his other hand in soft patterns along my skin. It’s like he never wants to stop touching me.
"I can see why she stuck it out through law school," I joke.
He laughs a little but his expression turns stormy. Damn. The smile was nice while it lasted.
"Sorry," I say softly. "I shouldn't have---"
"I brought her up," he stops me. He rolls onto his back and studies his immaculate fingernails. "You're right though, law school was hard on us. I always assumed that since we made it through that, we could make it through everything."
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" I move closer and prop myself up to look at him. He takes a deep breath letting his hand drift back down to my hip. His expression changes to something like ‘fuck it’ and he starts the story
"You weren't far off before,” he looks up at me, face uncharacteristically open. “how you predicted a relationship between you and I would end. I put the job first too many times and she...I never knew for sure but I'm fairly certain that she cheated on me. Did Dave tell you that?"
I shake my head 'no.' He grimly looks away.
"I couldn't even blame her," he admits. "I was barely angry when I realized it. I just… knew it was time to give up. Because she already had."
I lay a sympathetic hand on his chest. He welcomes it, placing his hand over mine.
"She left me later that day,” he says, eyes distant. “but I may as well have shown her the door."
I cuddle up against his side. He wraps an arm around me and I rest my head on his shoulder.
"You haven't been with anyone since?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"We backslid a few times,” he admits. “I even thought we might get back together some day. I couldn't really imagine my life without her… Until I didn't have a choice."
“I’m so sorry,” I say, holding him tighter. I still don’t know how his wife died and I wait to see if he wants to tell me about it. If he doesn’t I should ask David. Maybe if I know I’ll be less likely to put my foot in my mouth. I am desperately curious, but I’m not pushing him for that information. I think a lot of my time with Aaron is going to be waiting for him to be ready to say things.
"Well,” he shifts uncomfortably. “I'd say I pretty much killed the mood."
I lift my head a little.
"Do you want me to go?"
“No,” he holds me tighter. He turns his head to bury his face in my hair.
"Please don't," he rumbles against me. "God help me, I still want more of you."
"All that emotion has to go somewhere," I sigh. I turn my face up to look him in the eyes then I add suggestively, "and I can think of a few places you can put it."
He laughs in spite of himself.
"You fucking pervert," he half-chides me.
"Sorry," I say, not the least bit sorry. "like I told you, I'm more than a little twisted. And I can't resist a dirty joke to save my life."
"That was a dark one."
"I can get pretty dark," I admit. I move up to give him a long, slow, kiss. "Though maybe that's something you like about me. Maybe it's something you need."
"There's plenty of darkness in my life," he grumbles dismissively.
"Fighting darkness, sure,” I start to kiss a trail along his jawline. “But do you ever just… play in it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know,” I toss my hair back and look at him. “watch a horror movie, listen to screamy music, have fucked up, violent, sex?"
"No," he is stone-faced. "Never."
I can’t help but take that as a challenge.
"Everyone has a dark side Aaron," I tell him. "Something in your eyes tells me that yours might be bigger than average. When do you let it go?"
"I don't," he says with finality. "Not anymore."
"What'd you do," I joke, "kill a man?"
He doesn't move. He just somehow stares harder at me.
"Oh," I say softly. Wrong question to ask someone in law enforcement. But since I can't keep my damn mouth shut I joke "Business or pleasure?"
His mouth hardens to a thin dark line.
"Oh."
I stop breathing for a moment while I think through my escape routes.
"It's not---" He sits up and stammers for words. "Jesus. I didn't--- It was part of my job. I was doing my job.”
That storm is back on his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose and avoids my eyes. There’s something he isn’t telling me. Sanctioned use of deadly force wouldn’t make him this defensive. I keep my eyes on him, waiting for the whole truth.
“I was protecting my son from the man who killed my wife,” he says it with conviction but the words seem rehearsed. But that could come from having to tell a traumatic story too many times. Gingerly, I place my hand on his shoulder.
“I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been for you,” I say gently “But I can’t say that I blame you. You shot a man in self defense, why would you act so guilty about that?”
“Because I didn’t shoot him," he blurts out. "I beat him to death. With my hands. I had him down. He said he surrendered. But I just kept hitting him. I felt his bones break under my hands.”
Woah. There is no way I'm going to have an appropriate response to that so I just don't say anything.
“I didn’t stop until someone pulled me off of him. I don’t know how long he’d been dead. It felt like I never would have stopped on my own.”
This part’s not rehearsed. I can hear the fresh pain in his words. I don’t think he’s ever said those things out loud.
“Do you have any idea…” he starts to ask, then he stops himself. “No. Of course you don't."
He’s turned away from me now, sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands.
"I don't," I admit. "But I can understand."
"No. You can't."
"Don't tell me I wouldn't kill someone who went after my family."
"But I enjoyed it," he confesses. He looks at me with the full force of his scowl almost like he’s trying to scare me away. He’s waiting for me to faint or run or say he's a monster. But under that, he’s almost daring me to comfort him.
"So would I,” I say it like it’s obvious. “So would most people. I assume. I haven't taken a poll or anything. Most of my sex work is domming and I’m kinky in my personal life. I've done fucked up things to people just because they said I could.”
He narrows his eyes at me in disbelief. Whatever he was expecting me to say, it wasn’t that. His eyes study me, waiting to see some tick to show that I’m lying. I take a deep breath.
“Are you going to do it again?” I ask.
“No,” I hear the disgust in his voice. “of course not.”
“Then I absolve you,” I sigh, making the sign of the cross in his general direction. He doesn’t even acknowledge the joke, which disappoints me a little. He stubbornly holds fast to his guilt. “You killed a guy who deserved it, that hardly makes you Ted Bundy.”
He looks at the floor, stone-faced and silent.
“Let me ask you this,” I venture. “David knew about it?”
He nods and I shrug a little. I move my body close to him, and lift his chin to face me.
“David trusts you,” I tell him. “So I trust you.”
“Dave doesn’t know that I liked it.”
“But now I do,” I start to kiss a trail from his shoulder to his neck. “So you trust me.”
He huffs a little in acknowledgement. His body relaxes a little into my affection.
“I suppose I do,” he admits. “Why is that?"
“Because I don’t judge you,” I say, looking directly into his eyes so he knows that I mean it.
“But…” he seems bewildered. “Why don’t you?”
“Honestly?” I ask, getting ready to make a confession myself. “I...think it’s hot.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It’s fucked up, I know,” I admit. “Please don’t put me on any watch-lists. I’m not writing love letters to murderers in prison or anything. I’m just... a dark kind of kinky. The fact that you can do that kind of violence, but are a good enough man to keep it in check…” I let my thought fade away as I kiss him. He pulls me closer and I climb onto his lap. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to him like I just might save his life. I nuzzle into his neck, licking my way to his earlobe.
“Tell me what you liked about it,” I whisper into his ear. He takes a sharp breath, halfway between shock and arousal. I rock against him slightly, punctuating my questions with kisses.
“Was it the blood?” I breathe. “The power? Feeling his body struggle beneath you? Feeling his body give up the fight? The fact that finally, for once, you could just let go?”
He breathes out harshly, arousal taking over. He grabs my hair and kisses me.
“The power,” he admits, one hand gripping into my side. He pulls my hair back and kisses the throat I expose to him. “Getting lost in that moment. Letting my rage take over. The fact that I finally didn’t care about the consequences of my actions. It was almost like relief. I don’t know how to explain it, like…”
“Like letting out a scream you’ve been holding in your whole life?”
“Yes,” he breathes. He lets go of my hair to look into my eyes. “How did you know?”
“You don’t have to kill someone to have those feelings,” I assure him, a small smirk growing on my lips. “Trust me. I can teach you.”
“Are you talking about SM?” he narrows his eyes at me.
“MmHmmm,” I hum, leaning forward to nip at his neck. He pushes me back.
“I beat a man to death with my bare hands and you’re asking me to spank you?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Trust me, Aaron,” I giggle “There are a great deal more options at your disposal. You wouldn’t believe the fucked up things I’ve done to people.”
“I profile sexual sadists for a living,” he deadpans.
“Well then I guess you would believe it.”
“How fucked up are we talking?” He frowns a little, trying to gauge how serious I am.
“Do you know what sounding is?” I ask.
“I don’t think so,” he says slowly.
“Then I’m not gonna tell you,” I shake my head. “Not tonight anyway. Let’s put it this way; name a form of torture that doesn’t cause lasting physical damage. Odds are good that I’ve either done it, had it done to me, or I know someone who has.”
Aaron’s eyes narrow at the challenge.
“Waterboarding,” He says.
“Did it to my girlfriend,” I say. Astonishment looks cute on him.
“Putting a pin in that conversation...” he blinks a little to recover his thoughts.
“Branding,” he challenges.
“Watched a friend of mine do it with a soldering iron,”
“Really,” his brow furrows in thought. He doesn’t want to lose this game. “Electrocution?”
“I’ve taken a stun gun to the pussy lips,” I say, only bragging a little. Aaron Hotchner is shocked for what may be the first time in his life. He struggles, speechless, while I giggle.
“I’m not as delicate as you think I am,” I hum against his ear. “And my guess is that you don’t want to do anything all that elaborate. Probably just smack me around a little while we fuck.”
“Is that...ok?” he asks and I nod my head. “What if it was maybe a little more than that?”
“How does this list sound?” I say my list, raining soft, sensual, kisses all over his body. “Slap me, choke me, pull my hair, throw me around like a ragdoll, hold me down, shove your cock down my throat.”
“Jesus,” He breathes. His cock seems to like the sound of my list. “Is that the...starter package?”
I giggle and shake my head no. I keep peppering him with kisses, licks, and the occasional bite.
“Am I just that easy to read then?” He asks. I giggle again and look into his eyes.
“No,” I whisper. “That’s just what I was hoping you’d want.”
He makes a hungry noise deep in his throat and kisses me hard. I match his passion, my hands ruffling his silky hair as I try to pull him even closer.
"So how do we do this?" He murmurs between kisses.
“It’ll take a little training," I tell him as he kisses his way to my ear. "but I can teach you how to hurt me just the right amount. At least you already know what not to do.”
"Not funny," he grumbles.
"Slightly funny," I insist. He grips my arms, a small but serious warning.
"Mmm," I hum against him. "Now that's the kind of force I like. You know about safe words?"
He hesitates.
"Run it by me again? Just to be sure."
"Red means full stop, scene is over, I am in physical or psychological danger. Yellow means check in because something's not working. But really I'll probably just say "ow" or "hold on" since we're not doing any non-con tonight."
"Noncon?" He pulls back to give me a questioning stare.
"We'll get to that later," I tell him. "This is just the mid-makeout crash course."
I kiss him again, grinding just a little against his growing erection.
"Green means all good," I tell him "but I'll probably just moan or… well, you know what it looks like when I'm enjoying myself."
This part is important so I pull back to make eye contact.
"If I freeze up, go limp, or start crying, check in with me." His brow creases in concern so I rush to assure him. "I might be fine. Or I might be triggered. So you just have to check. "
"Triggered?" His frown deepens, protectiveness flashing in his eyes.
"We can talk about that later, too."
His eyes narrow and I can tell he wants to press it but we've had enough trauma talk for one night.
“Put your hand on my cheek,” I instruct. He does but seems wary.
“Ok, now slap me, but only move from the wrist.”
He slaps me lightly, clearly afraid of hurting me.
“Ok, good,” I assure him. “Now, you can move from the elbow, just pull back about 6 inches from my face and slap me again.”
He hesitates, eyes scanning the room like the sex police might jump out and nab him the moment he hits a girl. But he trusts me to know my own mind so he pulls back and slaps me a little harder. Even though he’s holding back, the slap sends a thrill through me and I gasp in delight. I take a deep breath, letting the sensation wash over me.
“Mmm, good,” I hum, pulling him in for a kiss. “You’re a quick study.”
His face is conflicted, somewhere between scared, aroused, and guilty.
"It doesn't hurt that much," I assure him. "But the psychological impact is high so… use sparingly."
He nods firmly, absorbing the information. His eyes study my face for any conflict, finding none.
“Put your hand on my throat," I instruct, "fingers on one pulse point, thumb on the other, but keep your hand stiff so it doesn’t touch my trachea.”
He does so, gently. He still can't believe that I want this.
"Tighten that grip," I tell him. Just a little."
He does and I feel my pulse jump under his fingers. His eyes light up with hunger. And he can see from my breathing just how much I want it.
“Feels good already, doesn’t it?" I ask. "Powerful. Sexy."
He gives the slightest nod. I place my hand over his, demonstrating the pressure he can use, the ways he can move me around.
"Feel the control you have over me. You can push me or drag me anywhere you want and all you’re doing is touching me. You’re not cutting off my airflow. As long as you don’t squeeze you’re not restricting my circulation. All the dangerous stuff we can save for a different discussion. If you want to be extra safe, just move your hand up and grab the sides of my jaw. You can squeeze all you want there, and have just as much control.”
More confident with his hand on my jaw, he moves me to one side, then the other. With a steadying hand on my lower back, he stands up, pulling me to my feet. This simple show of force makes my bones feel like water. It takes me several breaths to regain my composure.
"Good," I breathe, "now throw me on the bed."
It only takes a sliver of his strength to fling me into the mattress. His hesitancy is gone now. His body is at home in this violence. The hunger in his eyes is growing and I'm sure it's matched in mine. My breathing already comes shallow and we haven't technically started the sex yet.
“When you grab my hair," I pant, "grab as much of it as you can so the pressure is distributed.”
He wraps my hair around his fist giving a good, sharp, tug. Not that he really needed practice in this area.
“Now here’s the fun part," I say, crawling to the center of the bed and lying back,"get on top of me.”
He is all too happy to oblige.
“Later we’ll work on pulling your punches," I tell him. "But for right now, just punch as hard and as much as you want, right here.” I point to the pillow about 6 inches to the left of my face. He looks dubious.
“Give it a try,” I urge him. He cocks his fist back then slams it into the pillow near my head. Even just the practice punch gives me a thrill and a soft sound between a gasp and a moan escapes me. He looks at me, his breathing deepened.
“Still pretty satisfying, right?” I ask. He nods slowly. His fist flexes unconsciously and I can tell he wants more. “It’ll feel even better when you’re fucking me.”
He lets out a growl and throws a right cross into the pillow next to me. I feel the rush of air his fist creates.
"Jesus fuck," I swear, pulling him down to kiss me again. We're in a frenzy now, making those little "I can't wait to fuck you" noises. His cock is grinding against me and I want him so much it feels like my teeth might shatter. But we've still got a couple of details to clear up.
“Do you mind if I call you Daddy?” I ask between kisses.
“Not if you say it like that,” his deep voice vibrates through his body. “Is there something I should call you?”
“Just about any variant of slut you can think of," I say. "Not “whore” though. You haven’t earned that one. Aside from that, the filthier the better. And any words of praise you want to throw my way will be very welcome.”
“So, if I were to call you a perfect little cocksucker…”
I grind against him and whimper.
"Mmm, I like this game," he smiles.
"We call this negotiation,” I tell him, trying to catch my breath. “I say what I want, you say what you want, wherever there’s overlap we play. I’ve said what I want, now it’s your turn.”
“Oh, um," His body stiffens a little. He tries to cover it as he keeps kissing every inch of my skin. But I can feel it, that confidence is gone already.
"No, that’s fine," he says. "Everything you brought up is perfect, I don’t want to…”
“Really, Aaron?" I pull his head up to look at me. "You’re gonna turn shy on me now?”
“I...I’m not being shy,” he insists. But the way he fails to meet my eyes tells me different.
“If it’s something I don’t want, I’ll just say no,” I assure him.
“Really, you’ve offered up so much already…"
“For purely selfish reasons,” I remind him. His eyebrows have lifted in a way I’m starting to recognize as his version of embarrassment.
“Oh, come on Aaron,” I run my fingers along his body, lightly circling his nipples. Arousal seems to wear down his resistance. “Tell me the filthy fucking things you want to do to me.”
“I…” he wavers, “I want…”
I run my tongue along his collarbone and up his throat. He nuzzles into my neck and speaks softly into my ear.
“May I fuck your ass?” His deep voice vibrates through me. The request lights me up and I desperately want to say yes. I take a breath and bite my lip.
“The short answer is ‘yes, but not tonight,” I say. He looks up at me, brow furrowing in worry. I can see the apology bubbling up to his lips, but I stop it before it gets there.
“I want you to. Trust me, I really fucking want you to. But it’s not something I do a lot, for reasons we’ll discuss later, and um,” I look pointedly at his cock. “ I don’t think I can take you without some, uh, practice first.”
“Yes, of course,” he rushes to say “Anything you need.”
“But," I lower my voice back into its sexy register. "I’ve got some lube in my purse if you want to finger my ass.”
He breathes deeply and gives a frantic little nod.
I extricate myself from the bed and grab my purse. I find the small metal pump bottle and place it on the nightstand.
“Wait,” he frowns a little, looking up at me. “You just walk around with lube in your purse?”
“I mean, you walk around with a gun,” I point out.
“Fair point,” he admits. He sits up to kiss me, then stops himself.
"One second," he assures me. He leaves the room and comes back a moment later, placing his own small bottle on the nightstand. I give him a questioning look.
"Hand sanitizer," he explains. I do my best to stifle a laugh. "What?"
"Nothing," I giggle. "Just… your boyscout tendencies are adorable."
"Adorable?" He smiles a little at the taunt, putting one hand on my hip. His other hand comes up to grab my hair, swiftly yanking my head back. "Does this look fucking adorable to you?"
Oh god, that edge of menace in his voice. How many suspects get the most embarrassing erections when he questions them?
But before I can say that he throws me into the nearest wall. He throws me slow enough that I have time to brace the impact with my arms but then his free hand grabs my wrist and wrenches it behind my back. The wall is cool against my tits as he presses me into it. I half expect him to recite my miranda rights but instead he pushes his body up against mine.
“I asked you a question, slut,” he intones, breath hot against my ear. My pussy is throbbing so much I can’t remember a question or an answer so I just whimper.
“What was that, my little cocktease?” The hand in my hair gives me a little shake. I still can’t manage more than a soft pleading sound. His hard-on swells against my ass and I can feel my pussy actually dripping. His weight keeps me pinned as he releases my wrist. His free hand snakes over my hip and down to my cunt. I whimper again as his fingers slide over my clit, soaking themselves in my juices.
“Oh you do like this,” he growls. He brings his fingers up to my lips. I take them into my mouth, hungrily licking them clean.
“That’s a good girl,” he rumbles. “Such a skilled mouth you have.”
His fingers press deeper and he lets go of my hair. I start to bob my head a little as I suck, showing him just how much skill I possess. His fingers press down into my tongue and his thumb comes up under my chin. He shifts his weight to release me from the wall and slowly starts to pull. He’s holding my jaw like it’s a fucking handle and I have no choice but to go where he leads me. I gag a little as he turns me around, then forces me down to my knees.
“Let’s put it to good use,” he says. He releases my jaw just seconds before he shoves his cock in my mouth. There’s something so satisfying about taking him into my mouth. It’s like he fits there perfectly, the right size, shape, and angle to slide right along the roof of my mouth. I don’t even gag when he hits my soft pallet.
He’s not grabbing my hair yet so I take a little time to show off, twisting my head as I bob up and down, swirling my tongue over the head of his cock before taking him in again.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, “You are a perfect little cocksucker.”
A proud little glow ignites in my heart and I suck him more fervently. I reach my hands up to grab his ass, pulling him deeper into me. For a while he’s simply lost to the sensation. Then he grabs my hair and orders
“Off.”
I reluctantly obey and he pulls me up to my feet.
“You filthy, fucking, cumslut,” he growls, wrapping a hand around my neck. “You’re not finishing me off that easy.”
He tosses me onto the bed and I stare up at him breathless. His eyes are black with desire. He takes a moment to savor the power I’ve given him. I can almost see him considering the list of things he could do to me. I feel my own vulnerability more acutely, as if I were suddenly somehow more naked. My eyes drift down the length of his body. This is my first chance to see his naked body fully, from a bit of distance. He's well muscled but not cut. An athlete’s body rather than a weightlifter’s. Scars stand out in stark marks across his skin; a swipe below his collar bone, a thick line down from his sternum, diagonal cuts just above his cumgutters, smaller slashes in the flesh of his arms and thighs, faded puckers of old cigarette burns. Jesus. What’s happened to this guy?
“Enjoying the view?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. I bring my eyes back to his.
“Yes Daddy,” I say, waiting to see his reaction. His eyes burn a little brighter. A smile curls the corners of his lips. I think he likes it. He caresses my cheek with one hand.
"You're so goddamn beautiful," he whispers. Then SMACK he cracks a good one across my cheek, leaving me breathless. The pain sends a throb straight to my clit. A heady mixture of pain, pleasure, humiliation and affection wash over me. He watches me as I recover, slowly coming back to myself.
“Jesus that’s sexy,” he whispers, half speaking to himself. “I should slap you more often.”
“Please do,” I purr. He is all too happy to oblige.
This time he turns away as I breathe into the sensations and by the time I’m aware of the world again, he’s got a condom in his hand, ripping open the package with his teeth.
He pushes me back on the bed, one hand holding me down by the throat. With his other hand he rolls on the condom and guides himself into me.
“Fuck,” he grunts as he impales me. “You feel so fucking good.” I moan in response. His languor is gone now. He fucks me with his full force and it is mighty.
“You love this, don’t you?” He growls into my ear. He slows his pace just enough to punctuate his words with thrusts of his cock. “This greedy little cunt is just dying for more. And more. And more.”
I whimper in protest as he pulls out of me, but I needn’t have worried.
“Let’s fill you up then,” he orders.”Get on your hands and knees.”
I do so eagerly, anticipation fluttering through my stomach. He takes his time in getting the lube and kneeling between my legs. I can feel his eyes on my exposed sex. My pussy throbs at the attention. He runs a finger between my folds, a reminder that I am absolutely soaking.
“God, you’re so wet,” he murmurs, “I might not even need this lube. But since you so generously supplied it…”
I gasp at the feel of the silky liquid dripping down my crack. It’s followed by the pad of his finger lightly tracing circles around the ring of my anus. Waves of pleasure radiate from his touch and I realize that I’m holding my breath. His circles get smaller, spiraling down to his ultimate destination. I cry out when his finger finally breaches me. The sound is somewhere between a moan and a sob. A new rush of heat runs through my sex. A ravenous longing shudders through me as he presses further in.
“So tight,” he breaths, slowly sliding his finger back and forth over the sensitive entrance. “I can see why you didn’t think you could take my cock.”
I’m his now, a helpless, quivering, mass of need. My elbows weaken and my shoulders sink down to the bed till I’m presenting myself to him like an animal in heat.
“Please,” I whimper, my face pressed into the sheet, "please fuck me, please."
“Don’t worry my little fucktoy,” he soothes. “I’m going to fuck you till you can’t stand.”
I refrain from saying that I’m already there. Because he’s right, I want more. I need more. And more. And more.
He lines himself up with my dripping cunt and slowly enters me, enjoying the extra friction that comes from his finger in my ass. I moan with the full force of my body. I am nothing but nerve endings. Every minute movement overwhelms me. He moves experimentally for a few minutes, finding the right rhythm. Then he picks up speed.
The sounds I make are animal. I can barely tell they’re coming from me. My only awareness is where his body touches mine. Still the ecstasy builds and with it my need. I find my words again but they are barely intelligible, just a run on string of swearing and begging to be fucked harder. Not that I think that’s possible. His hips are slamming into my ass at a punishing pace, the impact reverberating through my body.
Finally the need and want and ravenous heat pounding through me winds itself into a climax and my orgasm hits me like a freight train. The fevered clenching of my cunt pushes him over the edge and his shouts join my guttural screams. His free hand claws at my hips as spasms wrack his body, pumping every last drop of come into me.
He shakily withdraws from my body, panting as he collapses beside me. My legs give out and my hips drop down to the bed. I lay there splayed, as if my legs may never fit back together again.
“Mother of fuck,” I exclaim, face still mashed against the mattress.
“Yeah,” he pants, reaching for the hand sanitizer.
“I feel like a fucking bomb went off,” I say, summoning the strength to move my head.
“No,” he sighs. “No, that feels different.”
I laugh. He doesn't. I flop my head over to look at him.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
He nods, holding back a laugh.
“Jizzy chrizzy,” I say “What even is your life?”
“Dave doesn’t tell you stories?” He laughs.
“Not like that, he doesn’t!” I say. “With him it’s all poker with Ringo and co-eds who want to get pissed on. His life is a totally different type of crazy.”
“I am so sorry I asked,” he laughs. Then a whole new kind of worry furrows his brow. “You’re not going to tell him about any of this are you?”
“Don’t worry,” I shake my head “I don’t think he wants to know any more about your sex life than you want to know about his. He only wants to know that you’re well taken care of.”
“Then sending you to me was overkill,” he nuzzles into my neck. “Not that I mind.”
“No complaints here, either,” I agree, pulling him close.
“Happy to hear it,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, then looks at me with a touch of trepidation. “Those were all good noises that you were making, right?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Yes,” I assure him. “Those were very good noises.”
“That’s a relief,” he sighs. “I know you said you’d tell me if something was wrong but near the end there it sounded like you were being murdered.”
“I hope your neighbors didn’t call the cops,” I joke.
“No one seemed to notice when a gun went off in here, so I think we’re safe.”
“Seriously?”
“2009 was a rough year for me.”
“I’d ask about it but I don’t think my body can handle another round right now.”
“You think you’re worried?” He jokes. “I’m an old man, another round might kill me.”
“Oh, I think you’ve got a few good years left in you,” I assure him. “Look at me, I can barely move. Is swooning still a thing that people do? That seems like the right word for what I’m feeling. Do I need a corset in order to swoon properly?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure,” he muses. “Better put one on, just to be safe.”
“Oh?” I jump at the chance to learn another turn on. “Does someone have a thing for corsets?”
“Someone’s wife was a drama kid in high school,” he blushes a little, which is beyond adorable.
“Ooh,” I waggle my eyebrows a little, “Did you two get into some saucy Shakespeare action?”
“No,” he chuckles. I can see him debating another confession. “But we went to Rocky Horror enough times for me to develop a bit of a fetish.”
“Ah, but if it was Rocky Horror,” I tease, “shouldn’t you have been the one wearing the corset?”
At that he breaks into a big, though slightly bashful, grin.
“I never said that I wasn’t,” he raises an eyebrow and then laughs as I gasp dramatically.
“Aaron Hotchner, you sexy labyrinth of a man!” I exclaim. “You’re just full of surprises.” He shies away from the complement but I can tell he’s a little proud to have shocked me.
“That is another piece of information I would like you to withhold from Dave,” he warns me. “I would never hear the end of it.”
“Total discretion is assured,” I say in my most professional voice. “But if you have photos I want to see them.”
I sink my teeth lightly into his shoulder.
“Actually,” I amend. “I want copies.”
He chuckles.
“You know blackmail is a federal offense, don’t you?”
“Trust me,” I say suggestively, “that’s not what I’m going to do with them.”
I wake to brewing coffee and Let It Be on vinyl. I stretch, slowly waking up. I can't resist the cliche, so I slip on his button down before padding into the kitchen. Aaron is dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He faces away from me, chopping onions and softly singing along. I watch him from a few feet away, not wanting to interrupt. Finally he turns to see me.
"You're up," he hides his surprise, probably more out of habit than anything else. "How long have you been there?"
"You have a lovely voice," I say.
"That long," he blushes a little. "I should put a bell on you."
"Just tell me where you want to hang it," I reply, a touch of Mae West in my voice.
He chuckles and says,
"You remind me of our tech analyst. She can make a dirty joke out of anything."
"The inimitable Garcia?" I say putting my arms around him. "High praise indeed. I'm not sure I can live up to that."
"Well, I've never seen Garcia in one of my shirts," he runs a finger down the collar of his button down, "so you've still got an advantage. You look amazing, by the way."
He leans down to kiss me and lingers on my lips.
"Omelette ok?" He asks. "I've got bacon, onions, cheese, jalapenos..."
"Sounds wonderful," I say, kissing him. "Yes to all of that."
I sip some coffee, watching him cook. There's something different about him. He seems younger, lighter somehow. I can tell from the way he moves that there’s a simple joy he takes in the creative act of cooking. Maybe a joy he doesn’t get to experience much.
He sets breakfast down on the table but stays standing. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, then crosses to his briefcase.
“I went to the bank while you were sleeping,” he says, taking a thick envelope from his briefcase. “I wasn’t sure how much to get out.”
“Aaron,” I assure him, “I told you before…”
“I know,” he stops me. He taps the envelope against his hand nervously. His eyes search for what to say. “But I wanted to say ‘thank you’ and... there were no adequate words.”
I smile because I know how he feels.
“Here,” he holds the envelope out to me, still looking down. “Consider this a… very unimaginative thank you present.”
I stand up to give him a long, lingering, kiss.
“That’s very sweet,” I say, looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”
It’s gauche to count the money in front of him, but I sneak a look inside the envelope as I nestle it into my purse. My heart glows a little when I see that the small stack is made up of hundreds. I knew he was a gentleman.
“I put my card in there, too,” he says as we both sit down to breakfast. “In case you need anything.”
“Aaron, the whole idea was that I should be someone who doesn’t need you,” I remind him teasingly.
“Still,” he frowns a little to let me know he’s serious.
“I will,” I promise.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “You don’t know how much last night meant to me.”
“I have some idea,” I say, putting my hand over his. We sit in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. Finally I break the silence.
“You know your eyes look different in the sunlight?” I say. He blushes a little at the attention I give him. “They look brown in lower light. In sunlight they’re much more green.”
He gives me a smile then. An unequivocal grin.
As we talk I realize that I am seeing something very rare: Aaron Hotchner without his signature suit and scowl.
When Aaron excuses himself for a moment, I take up my phone to text David.
"Mission accomplished,” I text. After a moment I get his reply.
“Atta girl.”
