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Reid knew their boss wasn’t a fan of the team outings after solving a case.
Supervisory special agent Aaron Hotchner seemed much more content to just wrap up the case, board the jet, do his paperwork and the team’s, and go back home to the waiting arms of his wife and kid. SSA Hotchner didn't have the time or the energy to hang out in a loud bar with the people he'd just spent the last 3-4 days with. He was a busy guy, and definitely too old to be trying to keep up with the drinking competitions Morgan and Garcia kept making up.
Spencer, though, knew that Hotch, on the other hand, was gonna be there if he went too.
He wasn’t sure when it had started, probably after one of those cases that took them less than two days to solve and didn’t require them to fly out to the other side of the country, in those cases he always went home straight after landing. It had been a relatively short flight back home, so much so they hadn’t even taken the jet back, instead hopping on the SUV’s. Spencer hadn’t paid close attention, too tired from sleeping in a crappy motel bed, sitting shotgun, thinking that probably Gideon was gonna drive back to Quantico.
He’d turned his head and found Hotch instead.
Elle had decided to ride with JJ, Morgan and Gideon since she wanted to hear the end of the playful bickering Morgan and JJ had been at since they closed the case. That didn’t bother Spencer; if he didn’t have to race anyone for the front seat in the car, he was happy.
A couple of awkward silences between him and Hotch had gone by when the older man confessed that he wanted to get back early to speak to Haley. Marriage issues and whatnot, Spencer had just nodded, not noticing how Hotch’s eyes seemed to linger on his face maybe a bit too long. A text from Garcia announcing an invite to their favorite bar had broken the silence again.
He’d been asked if he was going to go.
Spencer had told him yes.
And to everyone's surprise, especially Spencer’s, SSA Aaron Hotchner met them at the bar in washed dark jeans and a dark blue polo. History repeated itself every time they went out after a case. Hotch would ask if Spencer was going, if he said no, Hotch would go home. If he said yes, then he’d see Hotch at the bar.
This time was no different.
Two shots of something blue and straight up tasting like fire had Spencer feeling light and bubbly, forgetting the hard time they had just moments ago whilst trying to prove that, yes, he was over 21 and, no, these people weren’t trying to sneak alcohol to a minor. The music was loud enough that one needed to lean over and partially shout in the other person’s ear if one wanted to talk rather than see just moving lips.
“Bossman! I brought you a drink! You look way too sober,” Garcia excitedly announced to the table, which right now only consisted of Reid and Hotch. In front of Spencer sat a full bright colored drink and a couple of empty shot glasses that had begun collecting themselves, the bottom of each colored a different shade of the rainbow. Hotch’s were clear, the same color as water, though Spencer was sure whatever his boss was drinking it was definitely alcoholic.
He blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the light fog that had begun clouding his thoughts for the last couple of minutes. He wasn’t wasted , he could still recite the first 200 digits of Pi if anyone asked him to; the first shots of alcohol just made him…normal. He’d let go of the usual anxiety that clung to him and he was less awkward than usual, people laughed at his jokes and even Hotch -Hotch!- wanted to sit next to him in the small booth.
With a smile, Hotch accepted the glass, throwing it back without hesitation and just a slight grimace at the aftertaste when it hit the back of his throat. “Thanks, Garcia”, he said, not loud enough for her to hear, only Spencer who was pressed next to him heard the raspiness of his voice. She seemed to get the idea of what their boss had said, simply smiling back and joining JJ on the dance floor. She didn’t say anything in regards to just how close her superior was sitting besides their youngest agent, even when they were the only ones in the booth.
Spencer could feel the heat coming off from Hotch, legs pressed together, thigh to calf, their elbows almost bumping when he rested them on the table. He hadn’t put his finger on why Hotch only went out with the team if Spencer came too. The only consistent thing was that they both ended up drinking way too much
He was reaching for his 5th shot when he felt a big hand splay itself over his corduroy-clad thigh. Feeling himself grow hot under his palm, Spencer dared look up, meeting a darkened stare.
Dilated pupils, deep breathing, I'm sure that if I felt his pulse it would be accelerated…Is he-
His thoughts were interrupted by a pink tongue coming out to wet his lips, the young genius losing his train of thoughts as he followed each movement it made, locking eyes on his mouth. Hotch seemed to be about to say something, but instead resorted to leaning into Spencer, his fingers digging into him as warm breath tickled his ear.
“ Spencer” , Hotch drawled, words thick and sticky now adorned with a subtle southern accent he'd never heard from his boss before. It was probably thanks to the many shots he'd already drunk, and honestly, it just made Spencer feel like goo under his hands so he wasn’t complaining. Almost choking on his own saliva, Spencer tried to breathe when he felt rough calloused fingers trailing the line of his jaw in a manner he was sure wasn’t professional or - hell - even platonic.
His voice, he knew, was abnormally high pitched, too nervous even with more alcohol than blood running through his body. “Y-Yeah?” He stuttered, noticing how close their faces were. He was 98.7% sure that if he craned his neck just slightly more to the left, he’d be able to feel the older man’s lips on his own.
Spencer Reid wasn’t sure why doing that seemed like a great idea in his mind.
Probably because of four blue kamikaze shots.
He closed his eyes as he let himself be kissed by Aaron Hotchner.
Spencer groaned into the kiss, letting his body and not his mind take control, opening up for Hotch’s insistent tongue. He hadn’t kissed lots of people at his 24 years of age, but by far this one was taking first place. It was rough, demanding, probably way too much tongue and teeth for it to be sweet, but Spencer didn’t care.
He’d found the reason Hotch always came to bars if he was there.
When Hotch had broken away, not soon after his left hand had wandered up and squeezed him through his pants, which had made him whine pathetically against his mouth, he’d stood up from his seat and exited the booth, tilting his head as for Spencer to follow him.
Both, trying not not to trip under their own feet, made their way to the back of the bar, finding the back exit and stepping out into the cold night. “H-Hotch!” Spencer yelped when Hotch pressed him against the bare brick wall. He tasted alcohol as their tongues tangled together, heavy breathing and the mere heat fogging his glasses, which were squished against his face.
What’s happening?
Hotch didn’t answer. Did I speak out loud? Please, don’t stop kissing me. He tried to run his hands over his hair, his whole body feeling like lead but also so light . He let his nails scratch the back of his nape, holding on as the mouth over his moved to his neck, nipping and biting where it could.
“ Oh” , he heard himself moan at a particularly hard bite, not knowing why he liked it, feeling himself grow harder in his pants. He could feel him harden too, the outline visible even in the dim light.
Hotch groaned, pushing a leg in between his. “ Spencer”, he panted, open mouthed now against his young subordinate’s open mouth. “I w-want to- '' Hotch slurred, his words sticking together like honey, both keeping upright just by holding onto each other. Spencer nodded, thinking what the dark haired man was probably too. His fingers tried to work Hotch’s pants open, the zipper not cooperating with him, sighing gratefully when he took over and popped open the button.
Not wasting a second, his hand sneaked inside his boss’ pants -literally- and he began stroking him over his dark - blue? it’s too dim to see - boxers. Hotch groaned again, his nails raking down his warm side after finding a way under his nice shirt as he also sucked another hickey under his Adam apple.
“Hotch- Hotch” , Spencer whimpered, trying to grind down against the strong leg under him. But before he could do anything else, he was spun around and promptly pushed down on his knees.
Hotch panted above him as Spencer grabbed onto his thighs for support; the ground was spinning beneath him, but the emergency exit light painted his face oh so beautifully when he looked up. Hands tangled in his hair, musing his parted hair and almost nudging his glasses off his face. His head was pushed forward and he could only open his lips to mouth over a hard cock - his boss’ cock - over his boxers, leaving dark stains where his own spit mixed with precum.
“S-Such a good fuck, Spencer. You want a cock in your mouth? You want it, yeah?” Hotch rasped, words ringing on Spencer’s ear as all the blood left his brain and went directly to his crotch. He wasn’t thinking, he couldn’t think, at least anything that wasn’t yes, I want it, please give it to me.
He tried to nod, the grip Hotch had in his hair not letting up. “Sir - Please”, he heard himself beg. Hotch chuckled, his thumb catching on Spencer's bottom lip, pulling it back up and sucking it himself. The genius just moaned and, with unsteady and uncoordinated hands, lowered his briefs, exposing him to the cool air of the night.
“Open up, be a good boy, Reid”, Hotch ordered, feeling warm air over his cock, lips ghosting over it before a pinkish tongue tentatively licked the head. He sighed, his head thrumming and his body finally - finally-, relaxed, just focused on the feeling of Spencer's wet mouth wrapped around him, suckling him like a lollipop.
He's so much better than Haley…
They made eye contact, Hotch thrusting deeper into his throat, hearing him gag around him, choke on his dick . “All you needed was a cock in your throat, right Spencer? Feels good, doesn't it, baby?” He hoped his words were as coherent sounding as they seemed in his mind, conscious of the state they were both in.
The younger agent pulled away for a brief moment, catching his breath briefly before being pushed back down on the heavy cock, tears sprinting in his eyes as it hit the back of his throat. He felt how spit and probably precum dribbled down his chin, mixing with his tears and leaving him wet and messy.
“ Yeah… Such a good boy”, Hotch groaned, throwing his head back against the brick wall, pulling a bit harsher on the hair under his palm. He felt himself sway to the side, the ground beneath his feet unsteady for a second, resorting to pulling the young genius further down his cock as he managed to straighten himself.
Hotch chuckled, a dark sound reaching Spencer’s ears. “Sorr-ry -hah- I can’t seem to get a good grip”, he wheezed, making Spencer look up, lips still stretched over his boss’ big cock, to see him… giggling? He had his head thrown back, a light pink dusting his cheeks, not knowing if because of the alcohol or the- well, because of the blowjob, and he was…smiling. Dimples showing, white sharp teeth out.
He’d never seen him like this.
I’ve never been in the back alley of a bar sucking my superior’s cock, either but here we are.
Spencer whined when he felt Hotch beginning to thrust a little, hitting the back of his throat each time, making him gag a bit. He tried to open up more around it, his tongue running alongside the thick vein he felt on the side.
“Mmh, I wanna cum all over your pretty face, Reid”, Hotch hummed, moaning a little, pressing Spencer closer again. He still had a blissed out expression, different from the harsh scowl he put on at work or the almost blank one he wore on previous outings with the team. Spencer liked this Hotch. The one that kissed him as if his life depended on it, the one who held his hair like a landlife. He whimpered around him once more.
Another chuckle. “You’d like that, huh?” A thumb stroked over the bulge on his cheeks, feeling himself. “Like me to paint you up? Want to walk back inside all marked up, baby?” He pulled out suddenly, leaving Spencer gasping for air and trying to hold himself on his thighs. The tip of his cock glossed over his lips and cheekbones, leaving a trail of precum over it. Spencer felt himself blush even redder at the action and at the words.
He wanted that.
He wanted Morgan and JJ and Elle and Garcia and, honestly, anyone , to know what had happened. That Hotch had chosen him .
Spencer wanted to be his .
Hotch began stroking himself, watching the genius prettily kneeling in front of him, his usually perfectly parted and combed hair now completely mused up and out of place. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m- I’m close, stick out your tongue- there we go”:
Spencer whined again, high in his throat, sticking his tongue out, as if he were waiting for a prize. “Good boy”. The praise ran through his body to his groin, realizing his underwear felt sticky, probably because of the precum, but also that he was aching for some contact.
He made the move to lower one of his hands from Hotch’s thighs to his own crotch when a sharp pull on his hair made him yelp. “No touching”, he growled. “Good boys listen to what they’re told, baby. You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”
Spencer keened at the words and placed his hands back by his sides, nodding his head. He was Hotch’s good boy. He would be whatever he wanted him to be, to be honest.
He stuck his tongue out again, pressing closer when he heard Hotch grunting over him, knowing he was probably close. “Please, give it to me”, he whimpered, begging for him to cum all over him.
“F- Fuck, baby”, Hotch groaned, a hand on his hair as the other one kept jerking himself faster now, using the mix of Spencer’s saliva and his own precum to slick the way. “I’m gonna- I’m- oh ”.
With that as a warning, Spencer closed his eyes just about as he felt a warm viscous liquid hit him on the nose, catching the majority with his tongue as Hotch shuddered and came, painting the young agent’s face with white, some even getting to his hair.
Hotch tried to even his breath as he kept stroking himself, milking every last bit of cum, using the head to smear it over his cheeks , letting Spencer take him again in his mouth to drink up the last drops, like an eager kitten, ready for his milk.
“So hot, baby. You like sucking my cock, huh? God, you look so undone with me all over you”, he grunted, looking at Spencer giving small licks before he pulled him up and, for a change, pressed him up against the wall. “ God , I love you”, he breathed out.
Hotch pressed their lips together again, tasting himself on his mouth, moaning against Reid. He could feel him hard in his pants, probably uncomfortable. He took the liberty to palm him once, revelling on the high pitched whine he made, hips bucking, searching for more friction.
He broke away, watchin at Spencer being mesmerized by the string of saliva that connected them for a couple seconds. His face still had some traces of cum that Hotch wasted no time in smearing around with his thumb before making him open his mouth and lick it clean again.
Spencer was panting openly by now, his face red and sticky, his knees battered and dirty, hair sticking up in weird directions, so hard it hurted , and deliciously drunk. If this was what a random hookup while drunk meant, he now understood Morgan and Elle’s point.
Except this wasn’t random . This was Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, his boss . He didn’t want this to be casual…He wanted more . That’s when he got what Hotch had said before kissing him. I love you . He loved him? He loved him, Spencer Reid. He forgot about Haley for a minute, or the fact that Hotch had been supposedly straight as an arrow before tonight. Spencer felt butterflies in his stomach, not caring if maybe it was just the consequences of drinking tequila with a semi empty stomach.
He loved him.
Whimpering, he tried to push himself against Hotch’s warm body again, wanting to feel big hands squeezing him and touching him .
“You still need to cum, Reid”, Hotch panted, still smiley and giggly. “Then we’re going back inside after you’ve straightened yourself”, he said, combing a hand through his messy hair. His phone chirped before he looked at it quickly, catching himself from falling against the wall. “Fuck. Better, send me a picture when you get home, alright? You better not cum until then. I have to go”.
Spencer was confused.
“B-But…You s-said that you-” He stuttered, feeling a bit lightheaded, supporting himself on the wall. Hotch stopped him.
“Haley’s asking when I’m coming back home”, he said nonchalantly, as if not realizing what he’d said earlier to Spencer, as if he’d not just sucked his cock .
As if he hadn’t just told him he loved him .
He was taken out of his thoughts when a sloppy wet kiss was given to him, Hotch pinching his side playfully. “Night, Reid. Thank you, I’ll wait for that picture”, he chuckled and disappeared back into the bar, leaving Spencer horny, angry, mopey and heartbroken.
With a sigh, he adjusted himself, trying to keep balance, and licked his lips, still tasting salty bitter cum. He made his way inside, hoping that he’d still be there and that this was just a silly joke.
Hotch wasn’t there.
Spencer did send the picture that night, cropping out his tear struck face as he climaxed in the solitude of his bed and apartment. The only response he got was a fire emoji and a blue heart. He felt dirty.
He cried himself to sleep that night and the next one, feeling his heart break again when, back in the office, Hotch wouldn’t even look at him.
When Penelope asked them all out again, he wasn’t surprised when Hotch waited for Spencer to give out an answer before giving his. He wasn’t surprised either when he again fell down to his knees on another grimey back alley with his boss.
It hurt that Hotch’s ‘I love you’s’ were tainted with tequila.
It hurt more than he himself wasn’t stopping whatever the hell was going on between them.
“I lov’ you, ‘pencer”, Hotch mumbled against his lips once again.
Spencer chose to believe him and kissed him back.