#hotchniss smut

[cloudlessly-light]

Hi!! Would you consider writing hotchniss thigh riding? There’s so few of them 😔 and maybe coupled with spit kink if you can? Your previous spit kink fics had me WILD. Thank you!!

A/N: Hi Anon! I hope you like this and that you don't mind that I added some other stuff as well, please enjoy!

Title: Gonna make you sweat Summary: Emily usually never disturbs him when he’s working from home, but sometimes she just can’t help herself. Word count: 2,3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, thigh grinding, spit kink, breath play/choking, verbal humiliation, dom Aaron, sub Emily, filth, absolute filth

It’s quiet when she unlocks the front door to their home. The lights all turned off except one and she smiles at the way Aaron always leaves a light for her when she comes home later than him. She kicks off her shoes and groans happily, the heels she’s worn for a night out with Penelope and JJ, as stunning as they were, are not worth the pain. The stillness of their house is soothing, knowing that Jack was tucked into bed and that Aaron was probably in bed waiting for her making adoration flutter in her chest.

But as she goes up the stairs and sees the light on in his home office she turns towards it instead of their bedroom and sure enough, he’s sitting there, still in his slacks but the tie off and the first couple of buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Today had been a tiring day for him, she knew that, and even if she wouldn’t tell him as much, it was part of her reason for cutting girl’s night short.

For a few seconds she takes in the way he’s looking sitting there, so effortlessly gorgeous, as he concentrates on putting pen to paper. He’s been at it for hours, she can tell by the slightly strained expression on his face, the way he’s flexing his fingers before grabbing the pen again.

Emily rarely disturbs him when he’s working, and she isn’t sure if it’s the way he looks as he sits there, or the wine she’s had, or the want she always felt toward him, or maybe it’s knowing that he needs to release some tension after the difficult day he’s had, maybe it’s the mix of all of it. But she finds that she can’t help herself as she quietly unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor. She steps out of it and then clears her throat as she takes a couple of steps toward him.

“Hi honey.” She smiles when he looks up at the sound of her voice and watches in amusement as his eyes move over frame slowly.

“You’re home early.” He says and pushes back on his chair to turn fully to face her and motions for her to come closer.

“Henry is sick.” She shrugs just as she comes to stop in front of him. His eyes move over her body slowly once more and she feels the familiar rush from it as his tongue licks over his bottom lip.

“And you thought that you’d come in here and distract me?” His hands graze the outside of her thighs as she nods and when she shivers in response to his touch he raises an eyebrow in amusement. “You know better than that, sweetheart.”

She smirks as he grabs her fully, large hands holding her hips as he pulls her toward him to straddle his lap.

“Can I really be blamed when you’re this sexy?” She muses, her lips brushing against his as she speaks before she kisses him. Her tongue is quick to seek out his, a happy sigh sounding from her when he licks into her mouth as his hands move over her body. The familiar feel of his warm, slightly calloused fingers sends goosebumps across her skin, the heat of his palms quickly making her entire body feel hot even in the slightly cool room.

Aaron groans lowly when he feels her hips start to grind on his lap, the heat of her evident even through her silk panties and his pants. When he breaks their kiss her dark eyes are hazy, her cheeks flushed pink and he swallows down the urge to take her right there. But there was something about Emily, needy and desperate, drunk on him, that was unlike any power rush he’d ever felt before. And tonight, after hours of paperwork and a day consisting of bureaucracy and red tape, he needed that power.

With that thought in mind he unhooks her bra, dark eyes locked on hers as it falls to the floor and before she has the chance to say anything else, he slowly wraps his hand around her throat, making sure he has her attention as he squeezes the tiniest bit. When he feels the way she swallows down a moan he smirks at her.

“You want me that bad, baby? That you can’t even wait until we’re in bed?” He squeezes harder and her hips roll against his lap in response.

“Aaron I-” Her voice is breathy, but it’s not what he wants to hear so he cuts her off with another squeeze, this one hard as he holds her gaze for a couple of seconds before letting go.

“Try again.” He watches in amusement as she fights the internal battle with herself, knows that in the end what they both want is for her to give herself completely to him, but sometimes she would put up a bit of a fight. Tonight however, it looked like her need for him was bigger than her need to be defiant.

“I want you so bad.” She whispered, the flush on her cheeks all but disappearing as her entire body flushes with the admission.

“Aww, you poor thing.” He keeps his hand around her throat as he pushes her off his lap only to tug her underwear off her hips before standing up too. There was something about Emily completely naked when he was still fully clothed that made heat flutter in his belly.

“Open.” He tilts her head back just slightly, a dark groan rumbling in his chest when her mouth opened, already knowing what was coming. When he spit into her mouth and she swallowed with a moan he hummed happily. “Good girl.”

Emily is sure she must be dripping from arousal as she watches how he sits down on his chair again, legs spread and body leaning back against the backrest, his entire being demanding respect. She knows what he wants before he says it, but she doesn’t move until he nods.

“You know you can’t always get what you want.” He pulls her closer but this time lets her straddle one of his thighs instead of his lap. The way she sucks in a breath at the feeling of fabric against her clit causes his fingers to dig into her waist slightly. “You want to act like a desperate little thing, and because I’m so nice I’m going to let you get off on my thigh. Let you prove to me how much you want it.”

His low voice and slightly condescending tone only make her flush harder, her body feeling like it was on fire and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She knew she was already staining his slacks, the wet spot already visible when she rearranged her body slightly and Aaron smirked, something smug and self-assured that she would have been irritated by if they had been in any other situation but this one. Instead it only turns her on and she slowly starts to grind on against his thigh, a soft moan falling from her lips at finally getting some relief.

Her hands move to grip his shoulders, her hips rolling and rocking against the strong muscle of his leg as his hands stay on her waist, letting her set the pace. His intense stare on her only makes her grind harder, something about knowing that he loved to watch her, getting her off. It always did.

“Look at you, it’s barely been two minutes and you’ve already soaked me.” He muses as the wet spot on his slacks get bigger, the feel of her wetness against his skin making his cock jerk in it’s confines. “What do you say to that?”

It takes her a second to find any words at all, but as her eyelids flutter open and she sees the furrowed eyebrows and lips pressed together in a thin line she gasps.

“I’m sorry.” Her grip on his shoulders must be hurting him but he only encourages her by pushing his thigh against her.

“Sorry for what?” Aaron lets go of her waist as he speaks, instead he grabs the back of her neck with one hand, the other moving to toy with her nipples.

“Sorry for ruining your pants.” She moans, the way he’s rolling one of her nipples sending pleasurable sparks to her clit, and her hips buckle slightly.

“That’s okay baby,” He coos before pulling her into a kiss that’s more tongue than anything else. “that’s what happens when desperate girls can’t help themselves.” He squeezes around the back of her neck and then let’s go, knowing from Emily’s slightly frantic movements that she’s getting close.

“Fuck, Aaron…” She whimpered as she rolled her hips against his thigh, dragging her clit against it harder as she felt herself squeeze around nothing. “Feels good.” Her words are mumbled between breathless moans and pants, her orgasm building slowly.

“I know, you’re so wet sweetheart.” He sits up straighter and wraps one arm around the small of her back to keep her steady as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. When he tugs it between his teeth, Emily’s hips buckle in desperation and he presses his leg harder up against her, making sure she gets as much pressure against her clit as possible.

She jerks, her body chasing her release as she rolls her hips harder and faster, nothing but lewd moans and his name falling from her lips as her body starts to strain.

“Good girl, come for me.” His cock was hurting from how badly he wanted to feel her, aching from being hard for so long without getting any relief, but as Emily started to spasm on top of him, he knew that any waiting, or uncomfortableness was worth it. He watched as her eyes rolled back and mouth fell open, felt how her hips jerked and grinded against his leg as she continued to ride out her pleasure with a cry that was almost too loud.

She felt her orgasm in her entire body, the pleasure of it making her eyesight blurry as she continued to grind down on his clothed thigh until only aftershocks rocked her body. Her eyes, heavy lidded and hazy found his and she smiled lazily.

“Thank you.” She mumbled and he chuckled, the sound raspy and low. When he carefully pushed her off his leg, only to quickly move her to his desk, she didn’t fight him, still happily dazed and sated. Her eyes moved to the wet spot on his leg and she blushed at the mess she had made, but she could tell that Aaron loved it, he always loved when she fell apart, it didn’t matter how it happened.

“Now it’s my turn.” He muttered as he made quick work of getting his pants and boxers off. He stepped between her spread legs and groaned at the feeling of her soft skin against his heated shaft, enjoyed the feeling as he shallowly thrust against her thigh while unbuttoning his shirt, knowing that he was smearing precum on her skin.

“Please, fuck me.” She whispered when he continued to tease her, a smirk on his face as he rubbed the tip of his cock through her folds repeatedly. It was enough, his desperation for her finally clear when he pushed inside of her and quickly setting a pace as he groaned against her lips.

“How do you always feel so good?” He grunted, the pleasure of her slick walls making him crazy. His hands gripped her hips tight to keep her in place as he started to move with hard, fast thrusts and when her legs wrapped around his hips, he hissed her name.

“Do it again.” She whispered against his neck and when she pulled back her eyebrow arched and her head tilted back as her lips opened.

“Dirty fucking thing.” He growled and spit in her mouth again, watched with heated eyes as she swallowed dutifully with a filthy smirk on her lips.

It’s rough, fast and desperate as he grabs at her and she claws at him as they chase their release in each other’s skin. When Emily let’s out a sound close to a whine and her pussy starts to clench around him, Aaron groans against her neck, his teeth digging into the soft skin there.

“Come with me.” She pants through blurry pleasure and she feels him nodding. The feeling of his labored breathing against her neck and the feeling of him inside of her as he grips her hard enough to bruise, is sensory overload and she comes only a few minutes later, clinging to his sweaty body.

“Jesus Christ, Em.” He hisses as his orgasm hits him like a freight train, knocking the wind completely out of him as his hips stutter against hers and pleasure makes his knees buckle. The way her center is still trembling around him draws out his pleasure, the feeling of release close to euphoric as he tries to catch his breath.

She isn’t sure how long they stay like that but when Aaron takes a step back she can see the relaxation, can see how much he needed this and she smiles at him.

“I should come in here more often.” She stands on slightly unsteady legs and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I don’t know, I might not be able to focus on work in here ever again.” He nuzzled her nose with his as she laughs before kissing her. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She stamps another kiss to his lips and then sees the knowing look on his face.

“You know exactly what, you brat.” He tickles her waist quickly before pulling her against him. “Come one, lets shower and then I’m having you sit on my face until I’ve had my fill.”

She’s never headed to the shower that quick in her life.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #dom aaron hotchner #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut #sub emily prentiss

[sequinsmile-x]

Physical Touch

He usually loved when his wife touched him, but it was slowly driving him crazy.

Part of the Love Languages series

-x-

Hi friends!

Well...I should have expected that the smut fic would win the poll by a landslide and here we are haha

I really hope you enjoy this <3 it's soft, smutty and full of Aaron just...pining for his wife. What more could you want on a Thursday evening?

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’d known she was tactile long before they got together. 

Aaron had watched her for years, always ready to place a comforting hand on someone’s shoulder or pull them into a hug. More than once he’d found himself wishing she’d do the same for him, the embargo they’d seemingly placed on physical contact between them a two-way thing, something they both upheld, as if they knew it was a line they could not cross. 

He’d held her hand once before they became them. It was when she was in hospital, before she was stable enough to be moved to Bethesda. She’d still mostly been out of it, pain and medication rolling through her in a way he was also familiar with. He’d held her hand, squeezing it tightly as he wore the suit he’d worn to her funeral, a bitter taste on his tongue as he apologised to her. She’d told him since that she thought she’d dreamt it, that she’d pulled him out of her imagination, the warmth of his hand around hers something she’d made up in some strange attempt to self-soothe. 

He’d always known she was tactile, but being in a relationship with her was a whole other level he hadn’t been anticipating. She touched him all the time, ranging from subtle moments, like her fingers trailing over his when she passed him a coffee or a case file, or squeezing his knee under the table when they were at Dave’s for dinner, to more obvious moments. She was a snuggler, something he would never have put money on before their first date. She would wrap herself around him like a vine whenever they were alone, her arm linked through his and her head on his shoulder as they sat on the couch, or she could lay half on top of him in bed, her hand sneaking under his t-shirt as she sought his warmth from the source, falling asleep to the comfort of his heartbeat. 

He loved it. He loved that his wife expressed her love that way, that she’d push his hair out of his face as she told him he needed a haircut, that she also loved their children in the same way. It’s one of the reasons he knew Jack and Violet always sought her out for comfort, her embrace was his place of safety too, something so calming about something as simple as her cheek against his shoulder that he wondered how he'd ever lived without it. 

He usually loved it, but it was slowly driving him crazy. 

He’d dislocated his shoulder in a takedown of an unsub two months ago. The injury had torn his rotator cuff and he’d needed surgery, a simple relocation of his shoulder joint not enough. He could still remember the fear in Emily’s eyes when he’d come round from surgery, how she was barely holding herself together, her grip on his wedding ring that he’d had to take off so tight the imprint lasted for hours. His shoulder had been immobilised with strict instructions on how to make sure he healed properly, and the only time his wife ever paid attention to medical advice to the letter was when it was for him or one of the kids, which had led to one, unfortunate, side effect. 

Aaron hadn’t had sex with his wife in two months. 

He missed her. She was right by his side, but he missed her. Missed the intimacy that had always been an important part of their relationship. Every tiny thing about her was getting to him the longer they went without having sex. Her beauty was bordering on obscene, as it always had, and his breath would catch in his chest whenever he looked at her, or if she walked by and he caught a sniff of her perfume, the scent he knew was simply her always following just afterwards. Even watching her with Jack and Violet, watching how good a mother she was filled his gut with want, with the desire to have more children with her as soon as possible. 

The touching was, however, by far the worst. Every time she touched him he felt his skin fizz, sparks set off just by the feel of her skin against his, and he was close to losing his mind. 

He hears a knock on his office door and he looks up, a smile immediately breaking out across his face when he sees Emily standing in the doorway, her arms crossed as she casually leans against the door frame. 

“Hey honey,” she says, stepping into the office, “Are you ready to go? We, and by we I mean you, promised Vi we’d pick up some dessert on the way home.” 

He chuckles as he thinks about his 2, almost 3, year old daughter. She was a mini Emily through and through, right down to the big dark brown eyes he couldn’t say no to. He stands up and starts to put some paperwork in his briefcase, and he raises his eyebrow at his wife as he looks up at her. 

“You say that like you can say no to her,” he quips, stepping out from behind his desk and walking over to her, quickly stamping his lips against hers.

She hums and kisses him again, her hand hooking around the back of his head, making him shiver as she scratches lightly at his scalp, “We both know I’m the bad cop at home, baby,” she says, kissing him once more before she pulls back, “One of us has to be.” 

He laughs, the sound dying in his throat when she reaches out and places her hand on his chest, rubbing gently at the lapel on his jacket. He can feel her touch through his clothes, her skin somehow burning him through his jacket and his shirt, and he tenses before he can control it. Emily frowns at him, her eyebrows pinching together as she pulls back. 

“You had some lint on you,” she explains, pressing her lips together as she looks him up and down, her eyes slightly narrowed as she tries to figure out what's wrong, “Aaron are you okay? Is your shoulder bothering you?” 

It’s not a lie, not really, because his shoulder was sore. A now familiar ache that got worse throughout the day, radiating outwards from the new scar he bore. It was easier than explaining to her how he was feeling, less embarrassing than admitting he wanted her so much he was thinking about pushing everything off his desk right here and now. 

There were still two weeks until the doctor’s initial advice would run out, and he knew it was going to be the longest two weeks of his life. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling softly at her, rolling his shoulder slightly, “It just aches a bit.” 

She hums and places her hand on it, her concern deepening when he tenses again, “How about when the monsters are in bed I give you a massage?” 

He falters for a moment, sure that would be his undoing, but instead, he nods and decides to deflect as he places his hand on her lower back and guides her out of his office. 

“Why do you get to call them monsters, but I don’t?” He asks, knowing exactly what her answer is going to be. 

She scoffs playfully and looks up at him, her eyes narrowed, “Because one of them came out of me.” 

___

By the time they get the kids to bed, he thinks she’s forgotten. The evening had passed them by with homework, bath time, and bedtime stories, a wonderfully normal evening they both once thought they’d never get. 

He walks into their bedroom to find her kneeling on the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts and a tiny pair of shorts sticking out from underneath, with a bottle of lotion in hand.

She smiles at him, popping open the lid on the lotion as she beckons him over, “Come on, honey,” she says, “I promised you a massage.” She sees the slight hesitation before he walks over, and she hides a smirk by clearing her throat. He sits on the edge of the bed and she rolls her eyes, placing the lotion on the bed before she runs her hands over his shoulders, her fingers meeting at his neck as she starts to undo his shirt buttons, “This works better if you don’t wear your shirt.” 

He nods and helps her get his shirt off, grateful that he’d slipped his tie off when he got home earlier, and he lets the shirt fall to the ground. She puts some of the lotion into her hands and rubs them together before she touches him, warming her palms and the lotion at the same time. 

It’s only when she starts spreading it on his skin, her touch firm but gentle as she pushes her thumbs into his bad shoulder, that he realises she’s using her lotion. One that had a slight spice to it, a scent of cinnamon that followed her everywhere that was now permeating into his skin. He groans, his teeth clenched as he breathes her in, widening his legs as his pants get tighter. 

She frowns, ready to pull away just in case she is hurting him, but then she looks over his shoulder, her lips pressed together as her cheeks flush when she sees the tenting of his pants. She makes a snap decision, wiping her palms on her shirt to get rid of the excess lotion before she climbs out from behind him. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, his eyebrow raised as she kneels on the floor in front of him, her hands already on his belt, undoing it quickly. 

“Come on, Aaron,” she says, unbuttoning his pants and moving them and his boxers just far enough to free him, “It hasn’t been that long,” she says, smiling in a way that seemed far too innocent for where her hand was, “I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me,” she says, pumping him up and down, “Let me help.” 

He nods, not needing any convincing, and his eyes drift shut as she leans forward and takes him in her mouth. He wraps his fists around the sheets of the bed so tightly he thinks they might rip. 

“Fuck, Em. You’re so good at that,” he says, unable to stop himself from thrusting into her throat, the pressure that had been building him in for weeks threatening to blow, “So fucking good.” 

She leans forward until her nose briefly presses against his pubic bone before she pulls back, sucking in a breath before she moves in again, bobbing her head up and down, his chorus of groans her reward. She has to press her thighs together for some friction, so turned on by seeing and hearing him like this that she briefly forgets why it had been so long since they’d done this in the first place. She can feel him start to lose control, his thrusts getting messier, but he stops her, his hand on her shoulder as he encourages her backwards, a desperate look in his eyes. 

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the spit that had connected her lip to the tip of him and she tilts her head, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, pushing his hands through her hair that he’d clearly messed up, unaware that he’d even grasped it, “I just want to be with you.”

She smiles devilishly, her tongue pressed into her cheek, chasing the taste of him from it, “You are with me.” 

He rolls his eyes at her. He’d missed this too, the ease that came with being with her like this, the familiarity to it. It could be rough, passionate. Tearing each other’s clothes off. Or it could be soft. Full of love and hands pressed together as they showed each other how much they loved each other. 

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he says, and she smiles and nods, standing up from where she’d been kneeling. She pulls his pants off the rest of the way and then stands up, ready to straddle him, her desire making her dizzy. It’s only when she leans in to kiss him, her gaze briefly lingering on the new scar on his shoulder, and everything comes back into sharp focus.

“Wait,” she says breathlessly, pulling away from him, “We shouldn’t do this, your doctor-”

“Sweetheart,” he cuts her off, barely recognising his own voice because of how thick it is with desire, rough and gravelly as he stares at her, “You started this.” 

She scoffs, “I started this? You’re the one who got an erection when I just barely touched your shoulder.” 

In any other circumstance, he’s sure he’d laugh. It was so like her to try and start an argument in the middle of sex it made him fall in love with her even more, a feat that always seemed impossible until it happened. He pulls her closer, grateful not for the first time this evening that it wasn’t his dominant shoulder that had been injured, “Because you’re so fucking gorgeous I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

She swallows thickly and looks him up and down, desire sparking under her skin. It had been a long two months for her too, her frustration at not being able to have him so intense she’d yelled at Derek twice in the last week alone when he hadn’t deserved it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly.  He smiles softly, the pent-up, overwhelming, need for her fading for a moment as he reaches out and cups her cheek, tucking some of her unruly hair behind her ear.

“You never could.” 

She thinks about it for a moment before she nods leaning forward to stamp her lips against his before she briefly gets off the bed, dropping her shorts to the ground, “Lean up against the headboard.” 

He does as he’s told, and she pulls a pillow from her side of the bed and slots it between his bad shoulder and the headboard, smiling softly when he stamps a grateful kiss against her lips. She sits on his lap, groaning as she notches over him, a noise he returns when he feels just how wet she is. 

“Fuck, Em,” he says, his hands on her hips as she pulls her t-shirt off, “I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Yeah, well” she breathes out, rocking her hips over him, “You’re not the only one who’s been missing this,” she says as she wraps her hand around him to guide him into her. 

They both groan as she sinks onto him, the familiar stretch making them both breathless for a moment. 

“Oh fuck,” she says, her eyes rolling back as her head falls backwards for a moment, her hands on his thighs as she clenches around him, the breath stolen from her lungs as she adjusts to him, “God you feel so good.” 

“You do too, sweetheart,” he grunts out, encouraging her closer, tugging at her until they are chest to chest, bare skin pressed against each other as he rests his forehead against hers, “You feel so fucking good.” 

She cups his cheeks, her hands on either side of his face as she keeps her forehead against his and starts to rock her hips against his, a sound she could only call a relieved chuckle escaping her as he meets her thrust for thrust. 

They fall into a familiar rhythm, a sense of desperation woven through it, their eyes locked together as they both move, lost in the feel of each other. Eventually, he feels her hips start to stutter, and her thighs tremble around him. He reaches between them with his good hand and rubs circles on her clit, smiling as she mewls at him, the sound close to obscene as she buries her face in his neck, just about able to remember their children were sleeping down the hall.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, increasing the pressure on her clit, feeling his own orgasm within reach, “Come for me. Let me feel it.” 

She clenches her teeth tightly as she comes, stopping herself from screaming out as her hips buck against him. A spark goes off in her belly and spreads through her entire body, every nerve ending on fire as it washes over her as she moans his name. He isn’t far behind her, the way she clenches around him as she comes the final push he needs, and he buries his face in the top of her hair, her name lost in the dark locks stuck to her with sweat. 

They fall into silence, just the sound of their heavy breathing surrounding them. She’s the first to pull back, smiling lazily at him as she kisses him quickly before she pulls back to look at him, checking him over as if she’s looking for damage. She looks at the scar, placing her hand over it as she still tries to catch her breath, “I hope we didn’t make it worse.” 

“It’s fine, baby,” he says, kissing her temple and then her cheek, encouraging her to turn her head so he can capture her lips in a kiss, “Besides, since when were you such a stickler for doctor’s orders?” 

She playfully narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t pull back, not wanting to put any space between them yet, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Right,” he says jokingly, stamping a kiss against her lower lip, stuck out in a pout she’d always deny, “So it wasn’t you who I caught trying to drive to the store less than two weeks after she had a c-section? My mistake.” 

She blows out a breath and shakes her head at him, her cheeks somehow flushing even though the blush from her orgasm had never gone away, “That was totally different.” 

He chuckles and kisses her, properly this time, and he smiles as he pulls back, “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” 

-x-

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[kllingdaddy]

writing hotchniss filth is my favorite thing ever. yes, hotch is daddy. yes, he calls emily "sweetheart" and "good girl." yes, he literally rails her so hard she forgets her own name, but also showers her with love and affection afterwards as he makes sure she's okay, that he wasn't too rough. yes, he praises her throughout it all, reminds her how beautiful she is and how good she feels. yes, aaron hotchner is the perfect man.

#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #criminal minds #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut

[realtime-00]

I wish I could erase every hotchniss fan fiction from my brain just to read them all over again.

#aaron hotchner #hotchniss #criminal minds #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #criminal minds fanfiction

[hahahawhatalife]

Calling all Hotchniss Fanfic Writers and Readers: PLEASE HELP ME!

I made an absolute blunder and accidentally unliked a fanfic I was reading on Tumblr then refreshed my page (it might also be on FF or A03).

The premise is basically that Prentiss finds it really attractive when Hotch shouts (which she is SO real for because same). I think it starts with them interviewing a suspect together and goes from there but that's all I can remember 😭

Does anyone know the name of this fic and have a link to it?

Thanks so much in advance! ❤️

(I'm starting to gaslight myself into thinking it was all a dream but I KNOW I'm not creative enough to have come up with something as a good as I remember the fic being)

UPDATE: Thanks to @ssaemprts we've found it! 'To give to you' by Sarmaren! ✨️

#criminal minds #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss smut #aaron x emily #emily x aaron #hotch x prentiss

[shondaland-criminalminds]

Hangovers

Spencer: You were drinking pretty heavily

Emily: *slightly offended* Were you there?

Derek: You ask me if i’ve been bald all my life

Emily: That’s actually a great question

Hotch: You asked me to fuck the life out of you in the guest bathroom

JJ: And you asked me to join…

#criminal minds #incorrect cm #incorrect criminal minds quotes #emily prentiss #jemily #jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #drunk thoughts #hotchniss #jemily smut #hotchniss smut #cm smut #criminal minds gone wrong #cm #cm fandom #cm incorrect quotes #criminal minds incorrect quotes #jj x emily #tiktok #criminal minds fandom #johnny depp #justice for johnny depp #tiktok trend

[criminalmindsgonewrong]

HEAT.

18+, NSFW, pwp. 8.9k words of utter filth.

This is…the definition of shameless. I'll never read this again because I can't reread my own smut, but I hope you enjoy it x

there's Only One Bed. the AC is broken. you know the rest.

Read on fanfiction.net or ao3 or under the cut

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Emily had three problems.

The first was that the hotel room they'd booked only had one bed. The second was that the person outside the door, the person she had to share the hotel room with, was her boss. The third was that, expecting she would get her own bedroom, she had not packed appropriate pyjamas.

No, what she had instead was a tiny, cropped white tank and shorts so tiny she would be hesitant to wear them around her best friend, JJ, let alone Hotch.

She looked at herself in the mirror, at the way the tank clung to the curvature of her breasts. Turning, she tugged down the shorts, but they only went so far before revealing far too much of her midriff. She tugged them up a little, resigned, instead, to half of her ass being on display.

"It's fucking Texas, what was I supposed to pack?" she said to her reflection.

That was fair enough; August in Texas was no joke. Still, she wished she'd been a little more conservative with her choice of attire.

The bathroom was still warm with the steam from her shower, but as she stepped out into their shared hotel room, she realised she'd made a cyclical sort of error when Hotch looked at her from where he was standing near the thermostat.

Did she imagine it, the way his throat bobbed as he took in her appearance? Did his eyes really linger at the hem of her shorts, far too high to be appropriate in present company, or was she making that up?

"It's broken," he said, shortly, about the AC. Emily shivered on the spot, already too cold, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Can we call reception?" She asked, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"Already tried," Hotch said, gruffly, "They said there's nothing they can do until morning."

"Well, that's just great," Emily shook her head, "Cheapest hotel in the state, the AC is fucked and we couldn't even get our own damn rooms."

He tried not to take offense to that, shaking his head as he crossed to the bed and grabbed for his go bag. "I hope you left some hot water."

Emily, wringing out her damp hair, rolled her eyes, "I was in there all of five minutes."

"Hmmph," was all the reply she got as he slid past her and into the bathroom. As he manouvred around her, his hand grazed her exposed midriff, and she tried not to let her breath catch at the contact, turning with his hand and finding the bathroom door slammed in her face.

Afterwards, she would insist that he made the first move. He, of course, would do the same.

She was already in bed when he came out of the bathroom, too aware of both her state of undress and the possibility of seeing him emerge shirtless and damp from the bathroom. She didn't think she could handle that, honestly.

Aaron Hotchner was stubborn, impossible, immovable and downright rude sometimes. He was also, unfortunately, fucking hot. And, franky, that was Emily's type down to a T. Probably best not to psychoanalyse that.

Their relationship had been rocky from the beginning, and not really improved in the time she'd been with the team. He didn't trust her, after that business with Strauss, and she didn't particularly like him after all the times he'd been harder on her than the rest of them. But she still noticed the way his eyes seemed to darken whenever he looked at her, narrowing with such intense dislike. She noticed his hands, when they held his phone and made the same model that looked huge in her own hand look tiny, and the veins that stood out along the back of his hands, down into his wrist. She'd probably spent too much time thinking about his hands, if she were truly honest with herself.

So, really, the thought of sharing a bed with him was torture. Knowing he was inches away from her, breathing in the dark, all six-foot one of him, and all of him off limits.

She resigned herself to ignore him, turning her back on him and feigning sleep when he came out of the bathroom. She had tucked herself into the comforter, pulling it tight around her shoulders so that only her head was visible, dark against the white pillows. Still, she was shivering.

She felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge of it, tried to keep her breathing steady as he lay down. On top of the comforter. Emily frowned, her brows forming a little divvet inbetween them. So much for pretending to be asleep, she rolled over and looked at him.

In the sliver of moonlight that filtered between the curtains she could see him laying there with his eyes closed, one arm resting behind his head, the other resting on his bare stomach. All of the muscles she had imagined he would have were present and accounted for, more defined than even she had pictured, and she felt her mouth go dry at just the proximity of him.

"What are you doing?" She whispered into the dimness of the hotel room, and tried to ignore the fact that he was shirtless.

"Trying to sleep." He didn't bother opening his eyes, and she could hear a faint trace of annoyance in his voice. She quirked an eyebrow. "Stop looking at me like that."

"How do you know how I'm looking at you if you have your eyes closed?" They were about to start bickering like children, she knew. This, also, was part of their dynamic.

"Because I know you." He said it simply, and the four words shouldn't have meant much, but they made her pause in the act of whatever she was about to say, her mouth closing, softly as she watched him. He opened one eye, surprised by her silence, and then the other followed as he caught the expression on her face. Something like curiosity, something that stirred something else inside of him. Something that pooled low in his belly.

She gave a little shake of her head, rolled her eyes, "Just be an adult and get under the covers."

She rolled over, effectively putting an end to the coversation, and not really expecting him to listen to her order - because when had he ever before? She was therefore surprised when she felt him move, sitting up, standing up, and then felt the covers pull away from her body as he slipped into them.

Aaron tried not to stare at the curve of her waist into her hip as he lifted the comforter to get into the bed, tried not to let his eyes linger too long on her ass in those little white shorts. He turned his back to her, too.

"Goodnight." He said, gruffly.

"Goodnight." She whispered.

Unsurprisingly, neither of them could sleep.

Whether it was the presence of the other, or the chill of the room, they both lay awake, both pretending they weren't.

Emily kept shifting, presuming Hotch had fallen asleep, curling her knees up, tucking the blanket in even tighter around her, tucking her head into the duvet and then back out, anything to try and take the chill out of the air.

Hotch ignored it, at first, closed his eyes and really did try to go to sleep, despite the image of Emily's silhouette lingering unwantedly in his mind.

He couldn't understand her effect on him; from day one, even back when he was still married to Haley, he'd been more aware of her than the rest of the team. She tapped into something inside of him that he didn't fully recognise; something ancient and primal; desire.

He tried to distance himself from her, pair her with other members of the team, mostly Morgan, in the hopes of reigning in the inappropriate way he so often thought of her. Once Haley left him, it only got worse even though nothing had changed, not really; she was still off limits, as part of his team.

But he would have to be blind not to notice her. The others had noticed her, too, he knew. Morgan certainly had. He'd seen the way the younger agent's eyes sometimes lingered on her, the way he looked at her, hungrily. It made him - and he would never admit this to anybody - jealous, whenever she heard Emily laugh at one of Morgan's jokes, or when he heard them bonding over their favourite author, or when she rested her hand on his arm. It was harmless, he knew, but it still made his jaw tight.

So when this case came across his desk, he knew he had two options. He could send Emily and Morgan, or he could go himself. The decision he made was not the professional one, although anybody outside of his own mind wouldn't think twice about it. He was good, almost too good, at withholding his emotions, and confident that nobody knew of his attraction towards the younger profiler.

Still, even he hadn't anticipated that there would only be one hotel room, one bed. He hadn't imagined that those were the type of pyjamas she packed for a case. Well, okay, he had…but he hadn't thought his imagination would be so accurate.

When she moved again, he let out a frustrated growl and reached behind him, grabbing for her and grasping her hip, without really thinking. She stilled, shocked by the touch that sent currents of electricity through her body, made her heart beat that little bit faster. He let her go as quickly as he had grabbed her, immediately aware that he had overstepped.

"Can you stay still?" He asked, frustrated for more than one reason, and she didn't reply, but she didn't move again, either.

For a few minutes.

"God, Emily, what's wrong with you?" He asked, shoving himself to sit up and switching on his bedside light so that he could look at her. He'd pushed down the comforter, but Emily snatched it back around herself again, and not out of modesty.

"I'm fucking cold," she whined, and, true enough, he saw that her lips were slowly turning blue.

He raised his eyebrows, as she glared up at him, nestled down into the thick duvet. Then he rolled his eyes, switched off the light and lay back down.

Emily continued to glare at him in the dark, until she felt his hand back on her hip, shoving her this time, and she rolled back away from him as he nestled himself against her, his chest against her back, his knees locking in behind hers, his arm flung over her ribs.

Oh. That certainly had the desired effect; instantly, Emily was hotter than she'd ever been in her life. She knew he felt it, too, because he had gone so still behind her. She couldn't even feel the rise of his chest, he was frozen. Panicked by his own action, probably wishng he could take it back instantly. But it was helping with the cold, and Emily arched her back, tucking herself in closer to him.

His hand hung right there in the dark, and Emily's breath hitched with the knowledge that just the twitch of his fingers would have him grazing her breast.

She bit her lip, tugging it between her teeth. She would be lying if she said this wasn't exciting; the sudden wetness between her legs was a testament to that. She hadn't been close to sleep, and certainly wasn't now. They lay like that for a while, Emily breathing steadily, and, slowly, he began to do the same. His chest rose against her back (and even that touch had her breath hitching in her chest) eeking out all of the cold from her bones as they breathed together.

She had never been this close to him. Hadn't ever imagined that he could excite her this way, but his proximity had ignited a fire in her belly and Emily felt as though all of her nerve enddings were raw, exposed, the excitement of what might happen next making her almost vibrate with anticipation.

"Are you warming up?" His breath brushed her ear, and Emily had to close her eyes, her lips trembling as she exhaled, hard.

"Yes," she breathed, unable to help herself, and well aware that her tone told on her.

Afterwards, she would insist that he made the first move, but the truth was that she was the one who pushed her hips back into him, feigning the need for closeness, for warmth, and that the movement of his hand, the way he involuntarily cupped her breast, was more of a reflex than anything. He gasped into her hair as she pushed her ass back into his crotch.

Emily's heart stuttered in her chest, beating so hard she was sure he could hear it, the tension between them only increasing now that she could feel that he was hard against her backside, and she knew this was having the same effect on him as it was on her.

He still hadn't let go of her. She still hadn't moved away.

Emily turned slowly, her breathing the only sound in the darkness and Hotch leaned in as soon as she turned. His lips were a hair's breadth away from hers, his breath tickling her upper lip. She swallowed, loudly, and then he brushed his lips against hers, barely skimming them. He pulled away. Emily chased him, but he was out of reach at this angle. She pouted in the dark.

Then, he did the most Hotch thing ever.

"Can I kiss you?" If she said no, he was going to have to get up and leave this bed, splash his face with cold water, because he was achingly hard now, and still pressed against her ass. Emily couldn't help but smile into the darkness, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she said,

"You'd better."

His tongue was in her mouth immediately, and Emily lifted her hand to slide her fingers into his hair. He used his mouth like he did his gun, all focus and strength, sure of his aim; she couldn't help whining against his lips at the sudden, welcome invasion. She craned her neck at an awkward angle, her back twisted almost impossibly, but she didn't care as his tongue licked through her mouth, as she tasted him for the first time.

His hand tightened around her, the squeeze almost painful, but still she pushed her chest forward, offering him more, still, even as he ground his pelvis into her ass. His cock was hard, laid up against his stomach, and wedged into the crevice between her ass cheeks. She pushed back into him and even through their clothes, she could feel the heat coming off of him as he pushed back against her.

It was exhilarating. She didn't even really believe it was happening and the pitch blackness of the room only heightened her other senses.

They kissed like that for a long while, like teenagers discovering sex for the first time, afraid to take the next step. Take it they did, though, as Hotch slipped his hand into the neck of her tank top, greedily searching out her nipple with his fingers, his hand moving from one breast to the other, as though he couldn't get enough of her, as though he couldn't believe his luck. He caught her nipple between two fingers, squeezed it, and Emily's mouth fell open in a gasp, releasing the airlock between their lips even as his tongue swept across hers. Her breath was little more than a stutter as Hotch moved on, his lips on her cheek, her ear, her throat. He paid attention to her pulse point, just below her ear, kissing and licking there as his fingers continued their ministration of her nipples, teasing and twisting and tugging them into hard, rigid peaks. He alternated between that and palming her, the soft warmth of his palm a relief after the roughness of his calloused fingertips.

"God," she breathed, shifting just enough so that she could lay flat on her back, unwinding her arm from the back of his head and turning herself into him, seeking his lips once more. His hand withdrew from her shirt as she moved. They kissed quickly and wetly, each as afraid as the other that one of them would come to their senses and stop this before it had a real chance to begin.

Hotch's strong arm went around her waist, pulling her in closer to him still as he kissed her, and then that same hand, satisfied that she couldn't be pressed more tightly against him if he tried, moved down past the hem of her shorts, to grip her thigh. She was sure his fingertips would leave imprints, he grabbed her so tightly, hitching her leg up and over his hip so that he could push his hips forward, and, again, she felt the promise of his arousal. This time he pressed up against her pussy, the thickness of him a familiar feeling as he nestled into her slit. Her shorts were pulled up and tight, and she could feel him even through two layers of fabric, her imagination running wild as she anticipated the feel of him inside of her, and her stomach jolted with just the thought.

He kissed her ravenously, like a man starved, and he was. The divorce was finalised a few weeks ago, making it nearly six months since he'd so much as touched a woman, longer even since he'd been nestled between the thighs of one. He was painfully hard, now, and rutted against her between their clothes. Her hand slid between them, and she suddenly grasped him through his boxers. He felt her gasp as she closed her hand around him and felt his thickness, and couldn't help but smirk to himself, feeling smug. Hotch moved, tilting his head and focusing his kisses on her throat, alternating between kissing, sucking and licking, all the way back up to her ear, again. Once there, he paused, his breath hot on her skin.

"Think you can take it?" Emily's insides seized as he growled into her ear, his words a teasing taunt she had never imagined he was capable of, had never imagined was his sort of thing. It made her curious what else he might be capable of.

"Only one way to find out," She responded in kind, and slid her hand past his waistband. It was his turn to gasp then, as her fingertips grazed the head of his cock, felt the wetness of precum there and then she gripped him, and pumped him once, twice, slowly.

"How long have you wanted me like this?" She asked, certain that his hardness couldn't just be a product of tonight. She continued her movement as he buried his face in her throat, the beginnings of his beard scratching sensitive skin.

"Fuck, Emily, since the first time I saw you," he said, between kisses, as his hips bucked involuntarily, his cock sliding in her hand. She closed her eyes, smiling, smugly, to herself at his admission, and rewarding him with a few quick pumps of her hand. He groaned against her skin, slid his hand up from her thigh. It lingered at the hem of her shorts, tracing soft lines back and forth over her skin, and Emily felt herself grow wetter at the teasing touch.

Pressing kisses down the column of her throat, Hotch moved down, trying not to shift his hips too much, wanting her to keep touching him, keep working his cock, and licked teasingly at the curve of her breast, down into the crevice of her cleavage.

In the dark, Emily was all touch and no sight, and she felt everything as he pressed his tongue flat against her skin and licked her, tasting the salt on her skin. It was a teaser, she knew, a trailer for the movie he would play later, and as his tongue danced quickly over sensitive skin, she knew he was making a promise. The thought of him performing those same moves between her legs made her thighs clench together, a movement that did not go unnoticed by Aaron, his fingers playing at her inner thigh. She trapped them between her legs, felt the brush of him against her pussy, and froze, holding him there. Her hand, too, stilled on his cock.

Her breath was coming in quick, her brain fuzzy, so high was her arousal.

"We can stop-" Hotch started, but she shook her head, quickly.

"No-" she breathed, "god, please, don't, I just-" her hips stuttered, and, smiling, he understood. He moved his fingers, still caught between her thighs, twitched them just a little.

"Are you desperate to be touched, Emily?" he whispered in the dark, and curled one finger down. Through her shorts, his knuckle grazed her slit, and Hotch moved his finger back and forth, more of a tickle than anything. Emily moaned in frustration, releasing her thighs and trying to grind down against his hand as best as she could.

Chuckling, Hotch pulled his hand away, to another frustrated noise from Emily, and instead grabbed her thigh once more.

"Up," she might normally have bristled at the order, but it sent bolts down into her pussy and she was only too happy to oblige, finding that she enjoyed taking his orders in the bedroom. Eagerly, Emily straddled him, all too happy to settle herself across his crotch, to feel his hard cock laid against her slit and grind down against him.

With a growl, he slid one hand into her hair, pulling her down, his lips reclaiming hers as she rolled her hips against him. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her to him, and Emily fisted the pillow either side of his head, scrunching the fabric into her hands, as he kissed her, deeply.

Then his hands were moving, grasping at the hem of her cropped tank, pulling it over her head. He kissed across her chest, quick and brief, then reached behind his head, flicking on the bedside light.

"I need to see this," he was as breathless as she was, she was glad to hear, and she felt herself flush as his eyes raked over her, lingering over her chest, his pupils blown wide with desire for her. She had the urge to cover herself, her arms moving involuntarily to do so, but Hotch caught her hands in his, twining his fingers through hers, and bucked his hips, jolting her. Emily laughed, the sound breaking through the tension. Hotch smiled at that, at the way she lit up when she laughed. A topless Emily was a beautiful sight, but the smile…god, the smile made her radiant.

Emily paused, looking down at him, the smile lingering around her lips but her eyes curious and wondrous.

"What?" Hotch ran soft, reverant hands over her hips, over the smooth skin he found there, into the dip where her hips gave way to her narrow waist. His thumbs grazed the underside of her breasts.

"You're smiling," she said, "I just don't get to see that a lot."

"You're worth smiling at," he said, and then sat up, keeping her on his lap as he kissed across her chest and licked over a nipple, a hand playing absently with the other. Again, his tongue danced skillfully across her skin and Emily's head fell back with pleasure, her own hand tangling in his soft, black hair as he pulled her tight against him with one hand splayed across her back and nipped, playfully. She hissed through her teeth, bucked her hips against him, and he groaned against her skin.

"Do that again and you'll be in trouble," his voice rumbled against her, and Emily felt it low in her belly, pooling between her legs. Curiosity, more than anything, made Emily roll her hips once more, hard, and she could have sworn she felt him pulse beneath her. Hotch chuckled, low in his throat. "Oh, you wanna play it that way?" He asked, and leaned back against the pillows.

Again, Emily felt exposed as he looked up at her from beneath eyes hooded with lust, her rosy nipples standing taut in the cold air now that he'd left them coated in his saliva. He wasn't smiling now, and Emily felt a hint of something that lingered between excitement and fear as he looked very seriously at her.

"Get on your knees."

She laughed, actually laughed, because no man told her, Emily Prentiss, to get on her knees. No, she only did that when she wanted to, and sure, she absolutely wanted to right now, but the order was unexpected and made her giggle, nervously. Then the smile fell from her face as she realised there was no hint of a joke in his eyes. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're serious."

In response, Hotch twisted his hips, Emily falling sideways onto the bed beside him. She yelped her surprise, then watched as he stood up. Her eyes went wide as she watched him tuck his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and push them down. He was…Emily swallowed, audibly, and felt her mouth fill with saliva as she looked at him, as her eyes traced his thick, rigid cock, standing to attention, poking at the air, desperate for somewhere soft and warm to be. She felt herself clench around nothing, her eyes darkened with lust, as images of Hotch burying that thing inside her pussy filled her mind.

"I said," He repeated, his tone measured as he grasped the base of his cock and brazenly, slowly, pumped it, completely unashamed in front of her, "Get on your knees."

Emily met his eyes and saw, for a brief flash, the moment when she could have backed out. His eyes softened just a touch, as through asking if this were okay. She knew if it wasn't, he would come back to bed and they would fuck, all vanilla and nice, and then sleep. But Emily was never one to back away from a challenge, and her insides were turning to liquid the longer she stared at him, the longer she contemplated exactly what this version of Aaron Hotchner could do to her.

In answer to the question in his eyes, she moved slowly, compelled by lust and intrigue, entranced by this version of her boss that was not so different to her boss at work, just naked and painfully hard for her.

Emily sank gracefully to her knees on the rough carpet in only her shorts. Clasping her hands together behind her back, she arched her back, pushing her tits forward as though in offering, and looked up at him with huge, innocent eyes. She looked phenomenal, willing and waiting, and it didn't go unnoticed when the hand pumping his cock sped up, nor when his tongue shot out of his mouth to wet his lips.

"Open your mouth," if she'd missed the signs, she knew the effect she was having on him just from his tone of voice, the way it was lowered and quiet. His eyes had darkened and, again, Emily did as she was bid, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out.

Hotch didn't waste a moment.

She gagged, involuntarily, as he slid his whole length as far into her mouth as it would go. And then repeated the action. She felt her eyes water at the invasion, Hotch not having given her any time to adjust, but she saw from the way his eyes gleamed that this was the intended effect. He wouldn't keep it up forever, he just wanted to see her gag around him, so gag she did.

"Good girl," Emily's thighs clenched around nothing at the praise. She tried to pleasure him, tried to use her tongue on the underside of his cock, but he slid in and out of her mouth so fast that all she could do was be there. He was using her mouth like a pussy, she realised, and the thought made her mind go fuzzy.

He thrust forwards a few more times, and each time Emily felt herself gag, until her eyes were streaming and he was grinning at her, proud of his handy work. When he stopped, she looked up at him with those big, wet brown eyes, her face flushed, her chest heaving as she breathed, hard.

"You're so beautiful," Hotch said. He held her face, one hand on her forehead, the other holding tightly to her chin, and bent to kiss her, quick and rough, "You're doing so good, Emily," she hummed at the praise, and he smiled against her lips, speaking into her mouth, "You're going to work for it now, though, my girl," he said, and she nodded, only too willing, slowly going mad with lust, "You're going to work for all of the nice things I'm going to do to you, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," the title came out involuntarily, but Hotch closed his eyes, his mouth opening wider against hers, not quite kissing her, but sharing breath, and she knew she had pleased him. When he looked at her again, it was with open lust and approval, and he straightened up, sliding his hands into her hair.

That was all the encouragement Emily needed before she took him back into her mouth, this time using her hands, too. She was no novice, and proved as much, no longer gagging as she was able to set her own pace. He was thick, too thick to fit comfortably down her throat, but she did her best, desperate to please him, to pleasure him.

"Fuck, Emily," his encouragemnt, his open approval, only made her work harder and Emily pumped him, pulling her mouth off of him long enough to spit on the head of his dick, using her hand to spread it, making him slick, her hand moving more easily over his stiff length. He groaned at that, and his hands slid into her hair. She looked up at him, and he nodded, tightening his grip. Emily lined him up and opened her mouth, and then she could only taste him as Hotch bagan to fuck her mouth, his hands so tight in her hair that they almost hurt.

Stars burst behind her eyes as her senses were overwhelmed by him, and the sounds of her throat, of her gagging, of his groans, were obscene.

Emily felt her throat constrict, as her ears bagan to ring, and had to slap Hotch's thigh. Immediately, he withdrew, a string of saliva still connecting her lips to his cock as it stood, red and rigid, and she knew he was close.

Swallowing, hard, she was breathless as she looked up at him and grasped it in a fist, "Are you going to come for me, sir?"

She knew exactly what she was doing, and she felt his dick throb in her hand, to her pleasure. Her shorts, she knew, were ruined, and Emily grinded down against her own heel, searching for any relief she could get. That didn't go unnoticed by Hotch, who stroked her cheek, gentle even as he guided her back to his cock with his other hand.

"You'll get your turn, princess, I promise you that," he said, as she popped him back into her mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head at the pleasure, "But for now, be a good girl and let me come down that pretty throat."

It didn't take long, Emily's mouth and hands working in tandem over his huge cock. She felt his hands fist in her hair, so painful she had to close her eyes, and then his hips stuttered. He held onto her, her nose pressed into his pubic hair, as he came, and she didn't gag as she swallowed his huge load, hot and salty in her throat and when he jerked his hips back, now oversensitive, she caught the rest of it in her hand. Looking him in the eye, she flattened her tongue against her palm, licking the last of him from her skin.

"Fuck, Emily," he growled, grasping her under the arms and pulling her, roughly, to her feet. His lips crashed against hers, and she knew he could taste himself and that he didn't care as he walked her back against the wall. His hand was down her shorts, finally, fingers sliding into her underwear, and when he ran two of them down her slit he found her wet and hot. His fingers slipped over her and he had to stop kissing her long enough to comment.

"You're fucking dripping," he said, appreciatively, his finger gently circling her clit. Emily's legs almost buckled, she was already so sensitive, and she clung tightly to his biceps to keep herself from falling. He smiled, amused and endeared by her. "All this for me?"

He withdrew his hand, much to Emily's disappointment, and brought his fingers instead to his lips. She watched, mesmerised, as he sucked her juices from them. Emily's stomach twisted at the sight, as she watched his tongue dance around his fingers, cleaning every drop of her from them. He pressed his forehead to hers, looked her dead in the eyes.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he said, running his tongue over his lips, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue, and then I'm going to fuck you, and make you come again, all over my thick cock, okay?" His voice was gravelly, low, even as dropped the hand with his wet fingers to her breast, played with her nipples again, and all Emily could do was nod, weakly, her body feeling like a live wire about to burst into flames. Hotch smirked, clearly proud of the effect he was having on her, and kissed her, again, the taste of them both now mingling in her mouth.

His lips travelled from her mouth to her throat, his lips leaving searing specks over her shoulders and her collar bones, her sternum and across both breasts as he occasionally paused long enough to suck a sore, red bruise into her pale skin. He paused at each nipple, swirled his tongue, nibbled playfully, and she ran her hand through his soft hair. Her head fell back against the door and she sighed, contentedly, at the comfort of that sensation, as his hands circled her waist and she felt him drop to his knees in front of her. She was so engrossed in the attention he gave to her breasts that when he grabbed her shorts and yanked them, and her underwear, down, it knockled her off balance.

Hotch chuckled, darkly, "Sorry, sweetheart," he said, but he didn't sound very sorry. Trying not to feel self conscious as she now stood as naked before him as he was, Emily let him lift one foot, then the other, and stepped out of her shorts. Hotch looked up at her as he threw them elsewhere in the room, maintained eyecontact as he leaned in, kissed her belly button, both of her hips, the very top of the little triangle between her legs.

"Aaron-" she started to protest, and he stopped, sitting back on his own heels. She paused, and he waited, his hands finding hers at her sides. He twined their fingers together, as he had earlier.

"You're perfect," he said, with the slightest shake of his head, leaning in and repeating the same kisses. Tummy, hips, triangle. Then he met her eyes, "Let me."

Nodding, overcome with need for him, Emily breathed out, "Please."

He grabbed her leg, lifted it onto his shoulder and she clenched his hands as she tilted her head back against the door again. His breath was hot against her, and Emily was shaking with anticipation as she waited for him. The first swipe of his tongue against her was slow, drawn out, as was the moan that escaped her lips at the contact. His tongue was hot, pointed, skilled.

"You taste divine," he said, into her cunt, and Emily gushed at the praise. He chuckled, "Oh, she likes that," he said, making her stomach clench at the vibrations his voice sent into her pussy, "My good girl likes that."

It was the my that did it, made her hold his hands tighter, made her whimper, desperately, and then he pressed his tongue flat against her, licked between her lips, tasted all of her, caught her juices with his tongue and swallowed her down as she gushed over his lips. Her mind was blank, her chest heaving as he went to work, his tongue fulfilling the promises he had made earlier, skilfully flitting over her clit, fast as a snake's, or sliding, rigid and probing, against her hole, or flat and wide and wet between her slit. When he circled her hole with his tongue, pushed it inside, his nose slid against her clit and she thought she might lose her fucking mind right then. He alternated, never letting her get too used to his actions, never letting her settle into the motion, building her up and up until she was a frustrated bundle of nerves, until she wanted to hold his head in place and fuck herself against his tongue.

She did wind her hand through his hair, like he'd done to her, did thrust her hips a few times, but Hotch grabbed them and held her in place, and she could hardly fight that. He was much stronger than she was, and held on to her, easily, letting her go only so far as he wanted.

He teased her, tasted her, taunted her with his tongue until she was whining, all but grinding down against his face, and she knew what he wanted, then.

"Please," she breathed, and felt him grin against her, his cheeks in a wide smile between her legs.

"Hmm?" He hummed into her pussy, and she hissed.

"Please," she repeated, through her teeth, tightening her grip on his hair until she knew she was almost pulling it out at the root. He didn't seem to mind, his tongue flitting even faster against her clit.

"Please, what, sweetheart?" He prompted, smugly, and Emily might have shoved him off of her right then if she wasn't so fucking desperate to come, so drunk on this version of him.

"Please, let me come," she gasped, "God, Hotch, I need to come."

"I want you to come, sweetheart," he agreed, "I want to taste you, I want you to lose control all over my face," she whined, hips starting to move erratically, and he let her go, let her hump against his mouth, "Lose control, Emily," then he latched onto her clit and sucked, hard, and she stopped breathing entirely as a searing, scalding orgasm wracked her body, making her blind and deaf all at once. The only thing that kept her on her feet was Hotch's intuition, as he grabbed her hips and pushed her back against the wall.

When she came back down from heaven, Emily felt pleasantly dazed.

"You're too fucking good at that," she said, her voice weak, her hand now soft as she stroked through his hair.

Hotch rose to his feet in front of her and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned in to kiss her, the taste of her still fresh on his tongue. Against her belly, she could feel that he was hard again, and, again, she clenched around nothing, aware that she would soon know how it felt to be taken by him.

Hotch swept her feet from beneath her, lifting her in his arms and carrying her the few feet back to the bed, where he laid her down, her head on the pillows. She looked at him from beneath eyelids heavy with lust.

"I'm clean," she said, without prompting, and he looked at her with approval, stroking his cock as he climbed onto the bed between her legs.

"Good, me too," he leaned over her, and she felt the tip poke against her folds, felt his length slide against her slt. Her slick coated his shaft, and Hotch lazily moved his hips, each gentle thrust bumping the head of his cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves, "I was hoping you'd say that," he said, his lips against her throat, "because I'm going to fuck you senseless until I'm empty, sweetheart, and I'm going to fill you up with come," Emily's mouth went dry, her nails digging into his shoulders where she'd been gently drawing circles, at his words, "How do you feel about that?"

She couldn't believe he still had words left to play with, because she didn't; there was barely a coherent thought in her head as she felt him line himself up against her, as she breathed erratically, anticipating him. Luckily, he wasn't waiting for an answer, and slid, slowly, inside of her. He was even thicker than he seemed, but her tight channel was slick with her orgasm and he slid in easily, even if he did take Emily's breath away with the sheer stretch of him. He went slowly, though, letting her adjust, moving only when she encouraged him with a nod, her eyes closed with concentration as she relaxed around him.

"Fuck," Hotch said, his breath hot against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, "Em, you're so tight."

This time his praise wasn't solely to elicit a reaction; she could hear it in the raspy way he spoke, the effect she had on him and she knew what it was taking for him to not immediately begin pounding into her. His arms shook as he held himself up, and Emily stroked a hand up and down his back, searching for his lips and sliding her tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeply as he notched one last inch inside of her and bottomed out, his balls pressed against her. They were locked together and Emily's breath was shaky when she broke their kiss.

She nodded, shakily, "Go slow," she said, and he did, pulling out of her leisurely, agonizigly, only to surge forwards and repeat the motion. It was bliss. She could feel every contour of him as he slid into her, every ridge as he slid out, and as she grew accustomed to his size, she nodded again and, understanding, Hotch snapped his hips forwards, jolting her up the bed slightly.

"Hotch!" Emily gasped, her mouth open, as the pleasured bordered on pain. He smirked, playfully, at her, and did it again, sending pleasurable waves through her body. "Fuck," she cursed, under her breath. He chuckled, darkly, dropping himself onto his elbows rather than his hands, his chest pressed against hers and bending his legs at the knees to give himself more leverage.

"Fuck, indeed," he said, and started a brutal pace that stole the air from Emily's lungs. He pounded into her with reckless abandon, snapping his hips expertly, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust. Emily could only hold onto him and she wrapped her legs around him, tilting her pelvis and giving him an even deeper angle. She would have sworn she could feel each thrust in her throat.

It didn't take long until her second orgasm was building, already sensitive from her first. The last thing she wanted to do was become too overstimulated, but she wasn't about to tell him to stop when he was eliciting rivulets of pure pleasure from her body, and as her climax washed over her, she clung tight to him and felt his hips stutter, overcome by the clench of her around him.

"Oh, baby," he praised, the nickname coming easily to his lips, "Sweetheart, you feel so good, milking my cock with that pretty pussy."

The dirty talk still surprised her with every word, unexpected but welcome, and had her coming harder. Hotch dropped his hand between their bodies, rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb, dragging out her orgasm until she had to push his hand away from her, gasping, and he grinned, slowly thrusting his hips back and forth.

"You're not done yet, Emily," he told her, as she ran her hands over his chest, over the strong muscles she found there, and he lazily thrust into her, giving her a moment to come down, "You're not done until I say you're done, are we clear?"

Again, even through his words, she saw in his eyes the need for her reassurance, her consent, and, licking her lips, Emily nodded, pulling his face back down to hers for a kiss.

"Take me," she said, against his lips, and felt the sudden snap of his hips against her, as his control faltered at her sensual words, eliciting an involuntary groan from the back of her throat, she breathed, hard, and fixed him with her eyes. He stared down at her, as she ran her hands into his hair, and her pupils were blown with lust and desire, her pale skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat, "Fuck me, Aaron, harder."

And maybe it was the use of his name that did it, breaking the last of his resolve, or maybe it was the plea for him to go harder. The permission she gave him to be ruthless.

He pulled out of her, Emily whimpering at the contact and lack of, all at once, and she reached for him. Her hand was on his chest when he grabbed her wrist tightly, bone scraping bone, and pulled her palm to his lips, kissing it, a moment of tenderness before he dropped her hand and grabbed for her hips, instead.

His strength was impressive, and he flipped her like she were a ragdoll, Emily landing on her stomach on the bed, her cheek against the pillow as he manouvred her according to his own will, spread her knees and lifted her hips.

His hand came down, hard, on her ass, the sound splitting the room, and she yeled, her world narrowing to the burning sensation. Hotch stared at the red imprint he'd left on her pale skin, licked his lips, and did it again.

"Aaron," she gasped, pleading.

Hotch stared at her, at where she was pink and glistening, at where her pussy clenched, desperate and needy, around nothing, and couldn't help himself as he leaned in and swiped his tongue through her, once more.

"I'll never get enough of you," he said, burying his face between her legs, and Emily hissed, fists balling up the pillowcase, so sensitive was her pussy. He pumped his cock as he licked through her, high on the scent and taste of her. He fluttered his tongue against her clit, and she groaned, grinding back against his face, as Aaron speared his tongue into her hole. Pathetically, she felt herself winding up again, like a coiled spring, and as Aaron's fingers joined his tongue, his thumb sliding into her hole as his index finger rubbed over her clit, she was coming, again.

She was still coming when she felt him slam back into her pussy and the cry she let out was pathetic, delirious, as she involuntarily tried to escape his overstimulation. Aaron held fast, though, reaching beneath her, grabbing onto her breasts and using them to leverage himself, jamming her back onto his cock roughly, spearing her, hips snapping against her in a relentless rhythm.

"God, you're fucking perfect, Emily," he leaned forwards, biting at her neck, his back pressed against hers and he was everywhere, all over her, all around her, all at once. He was the only thing she knew as she felt her walls clench around him again, and she knew he felt it too by the gutteral moan that came from deep in his chest and rolled over her like a wave. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed himself so close to her, deliberately angled his waist so that he bumped again and again against the same delicious spot inside of her, driving her to the point of insanity.

"Come for me, Em, you can do it again," he told her, lips at her ear, and kissed down her throat. He grabbed for her face, turned her to look at him and then his tongue was in her mouth and she did as she was told, spasming beneath him as she came, again, only moments after her last, searing, brainmelting orgasm, and she knew he was close, too, as his lips opened against hers, his breath ragged, "Where?" he could barely manage to breathe.

"Fuck, in-inside, please," Emily gave him all the permission he needed and then she felt the hot spurt of him inside of her as he came, buried to the hilt in her pussy, her walls still clenching him, prolonging his pleasure as she milked him dry. The groan against her ear was gutteral, primal, animalistic and Emily's head was empty of anything but him as she spiralled with him.

He collapsed against her back, spent and exhausted, the delicious weight of him pushing her into the mattress, and Emily realised she wasn't cold anymore. Her skin was on fire, her insides were on fire.

They lay like that for a moment, both of them breathing hard and fast.

Hotch pressed soft kisses across her shoulders, pulling her hair, stuck with sweat to her slick skin, out of the way. Each kiss soothed her, and her breathing began to slow, her heart finally slowing to a normal pace in her chest. She whimpered as he slid out of her, soft now, sensitive after his brutal but satisfying treatment, and felt the gush between her thighs, knew they'd ruined the bedsheets.

Hotch lay beside her, a gentle hand on her back as he tucked himself close and tilted their foreheads together.

"Still cold?" He asked, softly, and Emily chuckled, the sound reverberating through the now silent bedroom.

"Actually, yes," she said, truthfully, the chill creeping back in now that she was exposed to the room and the adrenaline was settling in her veins. He shifted closer to her, pulling the comforter over them both as he lifted his leg over hers and pulled her into him.

"I have to-" she started, but he shook his head, pressed a kiss to her temple.

"In a minute," he said, and she could tell by his voice that he was already falling asleep.

"Alright," she sighed, contented, against his chest, the smell of him, of them, on his skin a comfort she'd never realised she was missing, "Alright, in a minute."

His hand ghosted softly over her back, fingertips tracing patterns she couldn't make out across her soft skin, and he looked down at her with gentle eyes, under tired, hooded eyelids. "How are you feeling?"

"Wow, aftercare, too?" she teased, smiling lazily up at him, and he smirked back, shaking his head a little.

"That was intense," he clarified, flattening his palm against the small of her back, "I'm just making sure you're alright."

Emily reached her hand up from where it lay beneath her head, pressed it against his cheek and pulled him down to her, to kiss him, to reassure him, "I'm great," she said, honestly, because she wasn't about to say I feel like I'm glowing golden.

He kissed her once more, and these kisses were somehow more intimate than those they'd shared before, when they were led by lust. They were soft, searching and almost hesitant as his lips moved against hers.

"We're going to do that again, right?" Hotch said, as Emily finally rolled away from him and stood up on shaky legs. He caught sight of the red marks he'd left behind, whether by his fingers or his mouth, and knew she would be carrying him around for days.

She cast a cheeky glance over her shoulder, caught his eyes roving appreciatively over her body, the slope of her waist, the plump curve of her ass, and grinned. "I hope so."

In the bathroom, Emily caught sight of herself in the mirror and realised that she still had three problems.

The first was the lack of clean - or dry - bedding on which they could sleep tonight. Although she figured they could remedy that by…not sleeping.

The second was the rapidly reddening marks Hotch had left over her throat (over her entire body, really, but the throat was the problem) and the way she knew she didn't have either the clothes or the make-up to cover those the following morning. She traced them with her fingers.

The third was that the man laying in their shared bed, in their shared hotel room, was the best lay she'd ever had, and just so happened to be her boss.

There were, Emily Prentiss figured, definitely bigger problems to have.

taglist: @hopefulfangirl24 @thebewingedjewelcat @platypus-whit-boots @luhwithah @cvtsbutcut3 @acetheticlytired @ccmattis-22 @duchessas @lucreziaq2001 @scorpiofangirl1109 @natasha-barton @lil-koala @themetaphorgirl @sequinsmile-x @emobabeyy @my-mummy-dust @section-chief-prentiss @canyouhearmeyet @psychicmuffinpandasludge @loriprentiss @eobangingwhen @thenerdthatwrites @daffodil-heart @cloudlessly-light

#shalemess smut #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner smut #hotchniss smut #honestly this is utter filth #you've been warned #smut shot #smut-shot

[thehuntss]

AFTERMATH - HIGH FOR THIS 2/2

•

On the next day everyone is sober. But all of them could remember crystal clear one thing. How Hotch and Prentiss announced they were dating. And since they had their own fun, now it was the team's turn.

•

Hi guys !

As requested and because I felt like it wasn’t done yet, here’s part two.

Thank you so much for your support !

Hope you’ll enjoy <3

xx

When the BAU woke up on the next morning, everyone felt the same: dizzy.

At some point some of them considered that their state was likely close to sickness so they could call in and stay in bed.

“I feel like shit. What the hell happened yesterday?” Derek groaned, on the phone with Penelope who was literally feeling the same. “Can we call in sick ? I can’t get up.”

“Am I being dramatic if I tell you I was considering the same my chocolate god.” She replied, suddenly thirsty like if she had spend days in desert without any water. “My head is about to explode and I can’t even sit in bed because it’s moving like a carousel.”

“I know, mine didn’t stop either, or it’s the aftermath of the cookies.” He mumbled, wondering how he could work today in this state. Derek didn’t have more time to think that he heard a knock on his door. “Don’t hang up baby girl.” He told Garcia before standing up and making his way to his unfortunate guest.

What a surprise he had when he saw JJ on the other side. She looked happy, and the little smirk she had over her face made clear to him that she would tease him for the rest of the case. What made him feel better was to know the others weren’t much to envy.

“Good morning. Are you feeling better?” She gently asked, already knowing the answer. He sighted, letting Garcia knows that his cover was spotted and in conclusion, hers too.

“I feel like I’ve been crushed by a giant weed cookie. I don’t do drugs. And I don’t ever want this to happen again.” He groaned as she chuckled.

“Don’t worry it’s going to pass. And for your information the others are pretty much feeling like you. Rossi is wearing sunglasses in his bathroom, and Reid thought he was sleeping in a coffin.” She resumed.

“And the lovers ? I had my headphones on, just in case they wanted to do it again…” he grimaced, clearly remember his boss and his friend making out in he police station restroom.

“They are the last ones I have to wake up….”

He laughed, feeling suddenly happy not having to do that. “Good luck with them, you’ll probably find them all naked and I personally don’t want to see bossman’s ass.”

“You’re gross. Come on, do whatever you want but be ready we have to be at the station in 30 minutes.” She said before leaving, as he unmuted his phone. “You knew she was coming right?”

Penelope faked a sorry sigh, laughing at the desperation in her best friend’s voice. “I always thought bossman and Rossi were our parents, I guess JJ makes a good one too.”

“You’re the worst.” He groaned, heading to the shower. “Wheels up in 30!” Derek said in a perfect Hotch imitation, before hanging up.

•

When Emily opened her eyes she felt like she was about to die or something close from it. She had never do drugs before, even in her chaotic childhood. She was having the worst headache ever, even alcohol didn’t do the same damages on her brain. “What the hell happened yesterday?”

She tried to stir like Sergio, but her body was sore as hell and then she heard a soft knock on the door. She stood up - too quickly her head started to turn - and opened, wearing Aaron’s shirt. When she saw JJ standing on the other side she smiled.

“Good morning. How are you feeling ?” The blonde asked.

“Terrible, I hate cookies.”

“Hmmm you’re the fourth person telling me this today. Is Hotch awake ?” JJ asked, presuming they had been sleeping in the same room, like they secretly did for the past year.

She didn’t know what was the funnier. Emily’s confused face when she heard her or the way she definitely didn’t remember a word of their original announcement the day before.

“What?” Emily replied confused, not knowing why JJ was asking that.

“Hotch is here right ?” She pointed at his shirt on her. “I mean, if you’re dating it’s normal. We have to be at the station in 30 minutes and I wanted to make sure everyone was alive.” The brunette still looked confused and JJ added. “It’s his room, that’s why I asked.”

And then she saw the light illuminates her friend’s brain as she understood the meaning of the question, looking at her boyfriend shirt. “We are dat…what are you speaking about ?” She frowned her eyesbrows and then realized. “Oh..oh you mean Hotch. Like is Hotch sleeping here ? Yeah, yeah he’s almost awake, we’ll meet you all at the reception.”

She closed the door, for sure she was having a blackout on certains moments of the day before. Emily remembered eating the cookies and then it was only flash backs, kind of blurry. She smiled when she saw her handsome boyfriend still asleep, and all naked.“Get it together Emily, we don’t have time.”

“Honey?” she sat next to him, pressing soft kisses over his face, almost falling off the bed when he jumped out like he had seen the scariest psychopath ever.

“What…” he groaned, feeling like his head was about to explode. “Hi sweetheart.” He said when he realized she was next to him, dragging her back to bed in a loving embrace, taking time to kiss her. She chuckled, straddling him.

“Good morning. How are you feeling ?”

He looked less livid, that was a good point, and as an answer Aaron kissed her again. “You look so beautiful when you’re wearing my clothes.” He whispered, feeling desire burning his body. Without warning he unbuttoned his shirt, looking at those perfect breast of her. She was so beautiful, they were so beautiful. And Aaron suddenly felt very hungry, and definitely not for cookies.

His eyes locked on hers, studying her face, waiting. She gave an almost imperceptible nod, letting him know she wanted this so bad. His lips latched onto her nipple and he sucked her flesh into his hot mouth. She felt so good, he could never get rid of that taste.

Emily ’s hand shot up to grasp the back of his head as she groaned in pleasure. “Aaron” she breathed into the air above and he bit her nipple gently in reply, making her shiver. As his mouth was busy he made sure to not neglect her other breast, giving her the best treat.

Emily whimpered, and Aaron once again found himself addicted to that sweet sounds, she was giving herself to him, and these moments were priceless. He was so distracted by her that he didn’t notice Emily’s hand move until it wrapped around his erection, making his hips buck against her. “Jesus, fuck” he gasped, knowing that reaching his climax wouldn’t take long this morning.

She chuckled, and before he could do or say anything she sank down on his shaft, moaning as she took him fully inside, the slight usual burn making her even more happy. “Oh baby…” her eyes squeezing shut, and her breathing louder, he could see how much she was enjoying herself. He hadn’t move yet.

Suddenly gripping her waist, he gave a big thrust, making her scream before he could cover her mouth with his hand. The heat of her tight channel around his cock made him groan, the sensations of physical love overwhelming him.

“Faster baby, you feel so good…” she panted, her hands caressing all over his torso, her body all tensed.

He pounded even harder, one of his hand on her clit and he knew she was getting close. Aaron wanted to give her everything, that little push that would send her over the edge. The harder he touched her sensitive spot, the better she moaned, the sound of his hips against her echoing deliciously to their ears.

A last hard thrust of his hips and Emily shattered, a long moan escaping her throat before she bit her lip to quieten herself a bit. Aaron loved to make her scream like that, something he got addicted to since the day they discovered physical love. “Come with me honey….” she almost begged him, still on her climax and a few thrusts later he came as well, spurting into her his hot and sticky fluids, groaning.

“What are you doing to me Em….” He whispered, catching his breath as she lied down next to him her head resting over his sweaty torso.

“Showing you how much I love you.” She replied, and suddenly reality hit her back, realizing they were now VERY late. She jumped out, and he didn’t need explanation before following her the shower.

“I guess we don’t have time for another round in the shower ?” She teased him as the water started to pour on their heated bodies.

“Emily!” But he wasn’t mad, he was terribly in love with her.

•

David Rossi, JJ, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia were waiting in the hotel lobby, all of them wearing big sunglasses, four of them wanting to die. It was even worst than a hungover and none of them seemed to have recovered.

“I feel like my head is a volcano ready to burst.” Derek groaned.

“Mine already exploded.” Garcia replied, very sensitive to the noises surrounding her.

“They are late.” JJ stated as Rossi sighted.

“They are the god and goddess of the most delicious and naughtiest business.” Derek mumbled, giving Reid a malicious look.

“Please Morgan, I don’t want to ever remember this episode of my life, I still can’t erase their moans from my head.” The youngest complained, very much traumatized. “It’s so unlike of them, neither of them would have done it in a public place like a police station. It doesn’t make any sense, I can’t find the right explanation.”

“Because there’s none little genius.” Dave replied him, shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s just say you can’t find answers of everything in books, sometimes you just have to…let go?”

“So you’re saying they listened to the little devil on their shoulder ?” Derek said, looking suddenly very concerned. “Interesting, maybe I should do that more often.”

“You already do that often, remember all the times at the bar my sunshine?” Penelope yawned as she answered.

“Are you being jealous baby girl ?” He teased her.

“Never, because I’m the supremacy and no one can ever uncrown me. Remember that.” She chuckled with this bitchy look that always amused him.

And before he could say something else they saw Hotch and Emily arrived from the elevator, both of them surprisingly wearing sunglasses too.

“It’s about time. Let’s go to the SUV kids.” David said, standing up and greeting his friends. They all did the same with a small smirk over their faces, leaving Aaron and Emily confused.

•

First SUV - ACT 1 (Derek, Penelope, JJ and Emily)

“So.” Derek broke the silence in the car, turning to Emily. “Dating Hotch huh?”

All the expressions crossed her face, not really remembering what had happened the day before, but they obviously did because they were all looking at her with the same expression. “What are you talking about ?”

“Oh don’t play with me princess. You basically told us and worst, showed us that you and boss man really gets along.” He said, Penelope starting to laugh uncontrollably.

“What ??”

She still had no idea what they were talking about. JJ felt bad for her friend and decided to help her, teasing her a bit. “You don’t remember yesterday ?”

“We’ve had some cookies and then you locked us up in the conference room.”

“Yeah right, and then ?” JJ continued, smiling knowingly. “You went to the toilets when Morgan started to sniff the table…”

“Hey I wasn’t sniffing the table!” Morgan exclaimed, as Garcia laughed louder. “I was…checking on it.”

“Oh…you smell like love!” JJ imitated then looked at him. “That’s what you said to that damn table.”

“No sense.” He managed to say, trying to remember but without success. “Anyways, Prentiss went to the toilets, and then…princess ?”

The three of them turned their look on the brunette and as they insisted, she suddenly got hit and everything came back in her memories. And for the first time she felt horrified, having flashback of those damn restrooms and what they had done inside.

“Oh my god.” She said after a few seconds, slapping her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Did…we…”

“Yes.” They all answered at the same time, JJ frowning her eyebrows, Pen laughing. “And I think everyone at the station remembers it.”

Emily went livid, unable to say something else.

•

Second SUV - ACT 2 (Dave, Spencer and Hotch)

“So you and Emily ?” Dave told his long time friend, looking at him like the proud mentor he was.

The confused look over Aaron’s face made him chuckle, the man had no idea what he was talking about and that was the funniest. “You don’t remember right ?”

He shook his head, looking stern and the usually strict but Dave knew him, he was being intrigued. He cleared his throat, looking at Reid in the rear view mirror, the youngest was fixing his feet, definitely feeling embarrassed.

“What happened ?” Aaron asked, feeling more confused when he saw the way Reid was definitely not looking at him.

“Let’s just say you and Emily had more fun yesterday, beside of the cookies.” Dave started, trying to focus on the road. “You followed her when she went to the restroom and both of you came back in later with some nice hickeys on the neck if you know what I mean.”

Horror crossed Aaron’s face and then he realized, he had literally forgot this part, or his brain made him forget because it was embarrassing, or because he had been too high.

“We…” he slowly said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, not sure he wanted an answer.

“You did have sex in the restroom and we figured out because of the loud noises we could hear from the conference room.” Dave finished for him, unable to hide his smile, even more when he noticed how Spencer wanted to disappear off this damn car. “More horny than lovesick teenagers. You need to take a room or take some holidays and fuck everywhere you want but not at the police station.”

“Shut up Dave.”

He couldn’t say more, only his laugh friend ringing to his ear.

•

When the two SUV arrived at the station, both Emily and Hotch were livid, looking at the ground and going inside without saying a word. The rest of the team remained outside for a few minutes, JJ breaking the silence.

“How did it go for you?”

“I think we have something to tease them for the rest of our lives.” David chuckled. “And we also resolved the greatest case of the BAU.”

“I think they will never forget this, and if they do it’ll be my pleasure to remind them.” Derek added, his hands on his hips, too amused.

“And I think I’ll need some sleeping pills so Hotch and Prentiss will pay for it.”

They all turned to Reid, Morgan giving him a formal pat on the shoulder, all of them smiling. “Come on kids, our boss needs you.”

The horrified look on Spence’s face made them all burst in tears, Morgan clearing his throat before rectifying himself. “For your intellectual qualities genius boy.”

“I hate all of you. I changed my mind, you are all paying for my therapy.” He pointed his fingers at them, getting inside the same way Hotch and Prentiss did few minutes before.

“Welcome to the BAU.” David sighted. These kids were definitely going to kill him one day.

#hotchniss #hotchniss smut #criminal minds fic #weedcookies #BAU family #aaron hotchner needs a hug #emily prentiss needs a hug #mommy JJ #they are still high but we love them

[duchessas]

the abyss stares back

Summary:

She’s counselling care, but she can already feel herself preparing to throw any notion of caution to the wind. Even if she and Aaron don’t voice their feelings - even if they pretend that this means less than everything to them - their actions give them away completely. The fact Aaron is here, holding her like she’s made of glass, speaks for itself. Besides, it’s been too long, too long without seeing him, too long to go without hearing his voice for Emily to be anything even close to sensible or restrained. Her self control is good, but it’s not that good.

Or: Emily Prentiss has been in flight for years, but she is slowly coming to realise that she can’t run from Aaron Hotchner. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Hello and welcome to another instalment of “Hotchniss stories that ran away with Ellie.” This is part 1 of 2. I really hope you enjoy 🤍

Read on AO3 HERE

#hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #criminal minds #ellie writes #reposting cause updates soz everyone xoxo #hotchniss smut #obvs has team as family dynamics because it’s me

[cloudlessly-light]

Can you do a hotchniss smut where Emily fake her orgasm because she struggles to finish sometimes and hotch notices so he confronts her about it and they try different positions and stuff

Title: Want your body like a fiend Summary: Aaron is not a quitter, so when Emily has a problem, he’s more than happy to help Word count: 3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, rough (ish), Aaron is a pleasure dom no one can tell me differently

”Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

That’s how it starts, how they start. It had been years of attraction, years of longing and yearning and then he just asks, like it’s not a big deal. And she couldn’t have been happier about it. With that question everything changes.

“Yes.” She smiles, and it’s big and bright and everything she hadn’t been since Paris. But she was back now and Aaron didn’t want to even think about losing her again.

So they go to dinner and in the beginning it’s tense and awkward, both of them having some trouble letting go of Hotch and Prentiss. But as the night carries on, Aaron relaxes and as he does, Emily does too. By the time dessert is placed on the table they’re teasing and talking, something about being together apart from the team and Quantico enough to let them simply be themselves.

“I had a nice time.” She says as he walks her to her door.

“Me too.” He’s smiling, the smile that makes his dimple show and she resists pressing her finger against it. “Would you like to do this again?”

“I’d love to.” She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear and then he’s leaning forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. It’s soft and careful and when he pulls back she feels her cheek tingling from where his lips had touched her skin.

“See you at work.” His voice is just above a whisper, low and slightly raspy and she knows she needs to hear it like that again.

“See you tomorrow.” She unlocks her door and when she turns around, he’s smiling at her.

Their second date doesn’t happen until almost two weeks later, work and Jack and life quickly getting in the way. But he surprises her, knocks on her door with a bouquet of flowers and breakfast on a Sunday morning.

“You said that you didn’t have plans.” He offers before she can ask what he’s doing at her doorstep. “And I wanted to surprise you, since our second date has taken a backseat.”

“T-thank you.” She stutters, feeling slightly embarrassed to stand in front of him without make-up in her sweats and a loose shirt.

“You look beautiful.” He says like he can read her mind and she smiles at him. “These are for you.” He hands her the flowers and watches as she takes them, her smile getting even bigger as she smells them.

“How did you know peonies are my favorite?” She looks from the bouquet of white, pink and purple to him and he winks at her.

“That’s for me to know, for now.” He pushes past her and into her kitchen and places the bag he’s carrying onto the counter. “I brought pancakes, coffee and fruit.”

As Emily watches him unpack boxes and carefully places take away cups down she feels her entire body warm. He was it for her, she knew it.

It gets easier after that morning, coffee dates before work and dinners if they aren’t away on cases. And all of a sudden it’s been close to two months and Emily is pressing him back against her front door, her tongue in his mouth and hands grabbing at his clothes.

They had waited, neither of them wanted their first time to be something rushed and tonight it was finally the time. His hands were on her waist, pushing her further into him, fingers moving under her shirt to feel her warm skin against his palms.

“I want you.” He gets out through heated kisses and she nods into a breathless kiss, only pulling back when the need for air becomes too much.

They move to the bedroom, hands roaming and lips searching as clothes fall onto the floor in a mess and when he pushes her against the bed she’s already flushed, her body feeling like it was on fire from him.

“You’re sure right?” He asks, eyes so soft that she wants to look away as he hovers above her. But she doesn’t, instead she cups his cheek as she nods.

“I’m sure.” She pulls him into another kiss as her legs wrap around his hips. His hand moves down her body, his lips move from hers to taste the skin of her neck, his tongue licking a stripe down the column of it and further down until he can lick over her nipple. Her back arches into him, offering more of herself to his searching lips and when his lips wrap around her nipple, she feels two fingers push inside of her and she moans softly.

His groan is muffled against her chest when he feels the heat of her around his fingers. When he curls them his eyes flicker up to her face, watches the way her eyelids drift closed and how her cheeks flush pink. He can feel the want and something they haven’t said out loud yet growing by every second and then she’s pulling him up to kiss him.

“Fuck me.” She whispers against his lips, a smirk on hers and eyes so dark they look black. The sound of her breathless gasp when he pulls his fingers out of her and tastes her makes him rut against her thigh, something close to needy behind the sound.

“Delicious.” He mutters and she arches an eyebrow in return.

“Filthy.” The teasing tone is immediately replaced by another moan when he spreads her legs wide, the tip of his cock hot against her clit. He’s big, pushing inside of her slowly as he keeps his eyes on hers and when his hips are flush against her he swallows down a groan as his forehead leans on her shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, you feel good.” He gets out through clenched teeth as he waits for her to adjust, The second she’s pushing up against him he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting forward. The sounds of his name and jumbled moans coming from her only encourage him as he moves with heavy pushes of his hips.

It feels good, it feels so good and Emily is sure that her nails that she’s digging into his sides are breaking skin, but he doesn’t seem to care so she doesn’t either. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and the familiar feeling of stress comes over her out of nowhere. She didn’t think it would with him, didn’t think that she’d get into her own head like she usually did. But it was too late.

She had always had trouble finishing, especially with someone else. She would feel rushed or overthink what was happening and even if she really enjoyed what her partner was doing, more often than not she’d never fall over the edge. It was normal, she knew that, but she hadn’t thought it would happen with Aaron.

But as she lies there she can feel her own mind taking over and she knew that no matter how good it felt she wouldn’t get there. She didn’t really mind, she was used to it being this way, so when she fell back into what she was used to, moaning louder and clenching her muscles as she faked her orgasm she didn’t think much of it. Until she felt Aaron stopping and looking down at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“What was that?” He asked, dark eyes intent on hers.

“What was what?” She offers him a smile that he doesn’t return.

“You just faked it.”

“I-I didn’t” The way her voices raise just slightly in pitch gives her away.

“You did.” He rolls off her and grabs the cover to cover them both before propping his head up on his arm, staying close to her. “Why?”

She sighs heavily, never had anybody noticed, never had she had to tell someone, and of course it would have to be him that noticed. In hindsight she shouldn’t have been surprised, he’s the most perceptive person she’d ever met.

“Sometimes I can’t.” She starts slowly as she looks up at the ceiling. “Sometimes I can’t come and it’s just easier to fake it.”

“Sweetheart,” The nickname makes her relax slightly. “it’s not your job to make me feel good about my sexual performance.”

“But it’s not like I’m not enjoying it!” She huffs in frustration and brushes some hair out of her face. “It feels amazing and yet I just… can’t. Like my body is broken.” When he pulls her into his arms she doesn’t fight it, his lips against her forehead is calming, his even heartbeat soothing. “I just didn’t think this would be a problem with you.”

“I don’t see this as a problem.” His words makes her look up at him with pursed lips. “All this means is that we’ll try different things, and there’s always toys, and it’s our first time sweetheart, it’ll take some time getting to know each other like this.” He smiles at her and she bites her bottom lip to keep her own smile at bay. “Besides, getting to spend time with you, explore every inch of your body, how is that not a win for me?”

When she laughs and swats his chest he rolls her back onto the bed.

“Do you think you can let me do that?” He whispers and when she nods he leans down to stamp a kiss to her lips. “Just promise me that you won’t fake it?”

She looks up at him for a moment, for some reason feeling nervous but in the end she trusts him with everything, including this.

“Okay.”

He kisses her again, kisses her for so long that she forgets about everything that wasn’t him. His hands are slow as they move down her body, caressing skin with teasing touches. By the time he’s moving down the bed, her chest is heaving, her clit pulsing as he slowly kisses from her neck to her chest and further down until he’s between her thighs. But he surprises her, and instead of feeling his tongue against her center, he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her thighs, moving from one to the other.

“Aaron…” She gasps, feeling like she’ll go insane but he shushes her gently.

“Let’s not rush.” He mumbles, his eyes heated and dark and her breathing hitches at the sight.

She isn’t sure how long he spends kissing the sensitive skin of her thighs while his hands are moving over her body, but by the time he’s licking through her, she’s keening and writhing, needing more. His tongue is strong, pushing inside of her and then licking broad stripes through her folds until he’s sucking on her clit.

“Fuck!” Her back arches at the sudden pressure on her clit, the feeling intense. Somewhere through hazy pleasure she can tell that he’s smirking, satisfied with her reaction. But she doesn’t get the chance to give it much thought because his fingers are inside of her, moving, curling, twisting and her entire body reacts to it.

Aaron can feel her start to clench his fingers and he knows that she’s getting close. He focuses on what he’s doing, pushing his fingers against the same spot and sucks and licks over her clit and when smooth thighs start to squeeze around his head he only doubles his effort.

“I- I’m gonna- fuck Aaron, I’m coming!” She cries out as she falls over the edge, muscles tense as she rides out her pleasure. Her body felt like it was weightless, and as she starts to come down from her high, she can feel Aaron kiss slowly up her body. The laugh that erupts from her is unexpected, and the second he’s face to face with her again she pulls him into a kiss.

“Thank you.” She mumbles against his lips and he only smiles, something predatory in his eyes.

“That was one, let’s see if we can get you to two.” He flips her around and then takes a pillow and pushes it underneath her hips. “What do you like?” His voice is low as he leans over her back, lips by her ear and she shivers.

“Don’t be afraid to get rough.” She turns her head to look at him and he smirks.

“What else?” He licks along her spine and she gasps at the heat of him against her.

“I’ve never come without clit stimulation.” Her hips push back against his and when the hot smear of him stains her thigh she swallows down a moan. “A-and talking helps.”

“Dirty talk?” He rubs his cock through her folds and waits for her answer.

“Yeah, especially your voice.” Her cheeks burn from her admission and she’s happy that he can’t see her face.

“My voice huh?” He grabs her hip with one hand, keeping her still as he slowly pushes forward. “Good to know.”

“Oh my God.” She whimpers, the breathy sounds quickly turning into louder moans when he immediately sets a fast pace behind her.

“Fuck you feel good.” He straddles the back of her thighs and leans back over her as he mutters against the back of her ear. “Like you were made for me, perfect for me. My perfect thing.”

She bites down on her own hand to keep the wanton moan from erupting, something about his voice and his possessiveness driving her wild. She pushes her hip back against him, the groans coming making her flush with want.

They stay like that, Aaron grunting filth in her ear as Emily moans and whimpers, but he can tell that it isn’t enough, even when he gets his hand underneath her to toy with her clit. But he lets her take charge, enjoys the way she feels, the softness of her skin, the taste of sweat on her body until he can tell she’s getting frustrated and he slows.

“Can I ride you?” She asks, voice close to desperate and he growls at the sound. He lays on his back and watches with heated eyes as she moves to straddle him.

“You look so good like this.” He marvels at the sight of her above him, his hands landing on her waist as she sinks down on him with a low gasp. She supports herself on his chest, her nails digging into him as she starts moving. He watches her for a while, enjoys the way her tight walls cling to his shaft and the visual of Emily riding him. Then he bends his legs and starts to push up against her and she whines at the sudden movement.

“A-again.” She begs as she leans back, one hand supporting herself on his thigh while the other moves down to rub her clit. He takes notice of how she does it, stores that information for later and continues to thrust up into her. He moves one hand to her chest, pulls one nipple and then moves to the other when she nods.

“God you’re gorgeous, soaking my lap.” His words make her hips buckle and her hand speed up between her legs.

“C-close.” The heat in her stomach was building, her body chasing her release and if she wasn’t so focused on the way he made her feel she would have been astounded that she was close to coming for a second time, something that had never happened to her before.

“Do it, come for me.” He grits out as she start to spasm on top of him, jaw slacked and eyes rolling back in her head. She grunts as she comes, her fingers rubbing quickly and Aaron moving underneath her keeping her from coming down completely until she slumps in blissful exhaustion.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened.” She smiles lazily and doesn’t stop him when he lays her back on the bed on her side. When he spoons her from behind she sighs happily, her leg coming to rest over his hip as she slides back inside of her.

“How does that feel?” He husks against her neck, one arm sneaking underneath her to cup her breast while the other hand grips her thigh.

“So good, you feel so good.” She mumbles as her own hand moving to gently grasp at his neck, her fingers pulling on his hair. “Keep going.”

Aaron bit down on the back of her shoulder as he started to pump his hips against hers. He’s getting close to his own orgasm, can feel it growing by every thrust and when Emily squeezes around him he knows she can tell.

“I want you to come inside of me.” She turns just enough to kiss him, her tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I want to feel all of it.”

“Fuck Em.” He grabs her harder, keeps her tight against him as he ruts against her, his movements becoming sloppy. “I’m going to make you come every which way, going to make you come until you’re begging me to stop.” The words are mumbles and hushed, words he wasn’t even sure he was saying falling from his lips as Emily let out needy whimpers and moans.

She feels him stilling behind her not much later, the sound of her name muffled against her neck as he bites a bruise into her skin, the heat of his release inside of her soon making her squirm. Only when his grip on her loosened did she turn, breathless and dazed as he hugged her close to his chest.

 “Was that too much?” He asks after their breathing had returned to normal, Emily drawing random patterns on his chest as he slowly stroked her back.

“No, it was amazing.” She lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“And tonight was just the beginning.” He grabbed the back of her neck to keep her from pulling away. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x emily #aaron x emily #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss smut

[sequinsmile-x]

Build Me Up and Let Me Down

Dating him was everything she wanted it to be, apart from one thing. 

They hadn’t had sex yet. 

-x-

Hi friends,

The idea for this came to me when I was having my nails done today (what can I say, my mind wonders) and then I posted here talking about it, and you guys all went crazy for it so here we are. Several hours and 4.9k words later!!

I hope you all enjoy it and that it lives up to what you wanted <3

Please do let me know what you think

-x-

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Dating Aaron was, mostly, everything she wanted it to be.

He was kind. Funny in a way she never would have guessed when they first met, his sense of humour dry. Quick-witted in a way that made her almost spray wine out of her nose on their first date, something that would have embarrassed her had he not already been her best friend. 

They’d worked together to get to this point, their friendship slowly but surely transforming into something more. The kind of relationship she’d spent her whole life chasing, forever looking for it in the wrong people and the wrong places until she became convinced that maybe she just wasn’t meant to have something like that. 

Until she realised she could see it all with him, someone who had been right in front of her all along. 

She’d kissed him first. A soft, delicate thing she’d pressed against his lips after he dropped her home one night after a long case that had made her sleep on the jet the entire journey back to DC. He’d insisted he didn’t want her to drive, assured her he’d pick her back up in the morning so she didn’t have to worry about her car, and suddenly every reason she’d had for not taking the next step with him no longer existed. He’d parked outside her building and turned to look at her, a soft smile on his face reserved for just her and Jack, and she’d leant across the centre console and kissed him. She’d been nothing short of delighted to see he was still smiling when she pulled back, his eyes now dazed. 

He took her on a date and they discussed everything, spoke about what they both wanted and agreed to move forward as a couple. That had been a month ago, one of the happiest months of her life, and she had never looked back. 

He bought her things, quickly teaching her that one of his love languages was definitely gift-giving. Whether it was a coffee on the way to work with a pasty she knew came from a bakery across town from where he lives, a book he said he saw and thought of her, or a candy bar he’d pull out of seemingly nowhere when she needed it most, they were all tokens of his affection for her. Small moments that made her cheeks flush and her heart race in her chest as she had to stop herself from telling him she loved him, sure that it was far too soon to admit something like that. 

Dating him was everything she wanted it to be, apart from one thing. 

They hadn’t had sex yet. 

They’d made out. A lot. Their dates often ending at his apartment or hers, just like tonight’s had. Another drink shared as they sat on the couch together, soft kisses giving way to more passionate ones, but he’d always stop them. He’d slam on the breaks just as she started to feel her blood warming up and what she had initially considered sweet and gentlemanly was now frustrating her. 

They’d slept next to each other. She’d woken up curled around him, or with him curled around her, but they’d never gone any further than making out. The brief touches of his warm skin against hers, usually his palm sneaking under her shirt as they slept, as if when he was unconscious he couldn’t stop himself, all she had to go on. She felt like a woman starved, driven crazy by the small bits of him he’d allowed her to have, and she knew she was near her breaking point. The threads of her patience fraying, so close to snapping, she knew it would only take one more gentle assurance against her lips, one more soft squeeze of her waist, before she broke. 

She was starting to wonder if it was her. If there was something about her he couldn’t see past, and she hated it. Hated that he’d become so important to her he had burrowed underneath her usually unflappable confidence. She knew sex wasn’t everything, but it was still important. She wanted to have that connection with him, to make him feel good and let him do the same for her. 

“You ok, sweetheart?” He asks, and she turns to look at him, smiling and nodding as she takes the glass of wine from him and has a sip before she places the glass down on the coffee table next to her couch. 

“I’m good,” she replies, tilting her head to stamp her lips against his, sighing contentedly as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. She smiles as she pulls back, her eyes focused on his lips as she shifts, throwing her legs over his lap as she tries to get closer, “I’m more than good.” 

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing her again. She beams at him, his compliment warming her from the inside out, she settles further into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, as they continue to get lost in each other on her couch. She can feel him go hard beneath her, can feel the material of her dark green desk inch up her thighs as she sinks deeper into his embrace.

She rolls her hips against his and scratches the back of his head, her blunt nails rasping against his short hair. She feels pride and arousal in equal measure spread through her when he groans, the taste of it, of him, on her tongue spurring her on. She trails her hands down his neck, her fingers soft against his skin as she reaches for the buttons on his shirt, the way it was slightly open already, his tie left at his upon her insistence and teasing, something she had memorised back at the restaurant. She feels a familiar grip on her waist before his hands travel downwards, his thumbs pressing into her hip bones before he pulls back.

“Em,” he says, his voice thick, and when she opens her eyes to look at him, she sees a now familiar look in his eyes. A mix of barely restrained desire and hesitance that finally makes her snap.

She growls in frustration as she removes herself from his lap, ignoring his attempts to keep her on the couch with him as she pulls at the hem of her dress, tugging it back down the parts of her thighs that had been exposed. Her skin tinged pink with arousal and embarrassment as she crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him, a determined frown on her face. 

“What is going on, Aaron?” She asks, her voice strained as she clenches her teeth, “We’ve been dating for a month and you keep…putting on the brakes.” 

He sighs and stands up,  all too aware of the tightness in his pants, of how the material strains against him. He feels guilt race through his blood, chasing the need he has for her around his body, snapping at its heels in a way he’s worried will allow it to overtake. 

“Em-”

“I’d ask if it’s because you’re not attracted to me,” she says, cutting him off, scoffing as she points to his crotch, “But you could see that thing from space.” She’d felt him hard underneath every time they’d done this. The way he’d press into her, just enough for her to rock against as they made out or into her back on the rare mornings they’d slept next to each other, was enough of a taste of what she wanted to drive her insane. “Is it because you just don’t see this going anywhere and you don’t see the point? Because you’ve never seemed like the ‘fuck them and leave them’ kind of guy, so why should you start now I guess.” 

He steps towards her as she laughs bitterly, his hand reaching out to touch her arm, but she stops him, taking a step back again, “Of course not-”

She shakes her head, her tongue licking her kiss-swollen lips, chasing the already fading taste of him as a thought occurs to her, the very idea enough to steal the air from her lungs as she interrupts him once again.

“It’s…it’s not because of Ian is it?” 

It’s something she hadn’t considered before, something that hadn’t even crossed her mind, but now it’s all she can think about. He knew what she’d done, who she’d become in the time she spent with Ian, and maybe he couldn’t get past it.

He watches as she folds in on herself, as she visibly shrinks in front of him, and he immediately feels worse. Horrified that she’d think he thought that, that he considered her anything other than brave and honourable and a dozen other things he thought whenever he looked at her. 

“Emily, sweetheart,” he says, grateful when she doesn’t step back his time, reaching out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “It’s not that,” he says firmly, his heart aching when she still looks unsure, a new insecurity unlocked because he couldn’t get past his own. “I promise.” 

She stares at him for a moment and she knows he’s telling the truth, the vulnerability in his eyes matching her own, and she nods, clearing her throat before she speaks again, “Then what is it? Do you…just not want to?” 

“I want to,” he says, the words spilling out so quickly they merge together, tripping over each other in a way that has her raising her eyebrows at him, “It’s just…” he sighs, embarrassment warming his cheeks as he shakes his head at himself, “Come sit down.” 

She lets herself be led to her couch, his hand wrapped around hers, and she looks at him expectantly. They fall into silence and she watches him carefully, a flurry of emotions washing over his face again and again that makes her feel nothing but love and affection for him. She swallows thickly and decides she needs to break the tension, falling back onto humour in a way she knows her therapist would chastise her for. 

“Is this some macho concern about the size of your dick?” She asks, smiling when he looks up at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Because I can assure you, honey, what I’ve felt so far is nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

Aaron laughs, some of the tension in his chest caused by something he knew was only an issue for him dissipating, “No, it’s not that,” he says, squeezing her hand to silently show his gratitude for her attempt to calm him down. He sighs and closes his eyes, looking down at their joint hands, “I’ve only ever had sex with Haley before.” 

Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and she stares at him for a moment even though he was avoiding her eye contact, “Oh.” 

He looks up at her, her expression unreadable as she looks at him, and he offers her a half smile, “I did marry my high school sweetheart,” he says, “It can’t be that much of a surprise.”

“You got divorced years ago,” she says, thinking out loud more than anything, trying to figure out how this man, this gorgeous, huge giant of a man could have gone without for so long. “What about Kate Joyner?”

He chuckles, “Despite popular belief, we never liaised,” he says, laughing again when her eyes go comically wide, “You’re not as quiet as you think you are sweetheart.” 

She clears her throat, shaking off the embarrassment as best she can as she takes in everything he’d told her. “What I mean is, it’s not like you wouldn’t have had the opportunity if you’d gone looking for it.” 

He lifts their joint hands and kisses her knuckles, “After a while I kind of realised I wanted it to mean something, as ridiculous as that might sound-”

“Not ridiculous-”

“And then we started dating, and you’re…well you’re everything,” he says, “But then I started to worry about letting you down, something Dave said-”

“What did Dave say?” She asks, frowning as she interrupts, irritation at their friend already building in her chest. Aaron can see the tension in her shoulders, the irritation etched into her face, and he chooses his words carefully. 

“He said something about you being a firecracker,” he says, watching as her eyebrows shoot into her hairline, a scoff escaping her before she can stop it. 

“Lo ucciderò,” she mutters under her breath before she turns her attention back to Aaron, “For a start, never take romantic advice from a man who pays more attention to pasta than he does to women,” she says, breaking into a smile when Aaron does, “And secondly, you could never let me down,” she bites her lip and reaches out for him, her hand against his cheek as she gently strokes his skin. She knew if it was anyone else, if it was somebody other than him, that she’d think he was judging her for how much more experienced she was than him. But she knows him, she loves him, and she knows it would never have even crossed his mind, “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

It was unlike anything she’d ever known. How he could set fire to her with nothing but a look across a room. How the simplest touch could steal her breath away, leaving her silently begging for more, thinking of any reason she could brush against him in the office just to get that close again. 

He scoffs, unsure how he could affect her like she affected him. Her touch burned into his skin every time she so much as touched his hand when handing him a file. He shakes his head, “Em-”

“I mean it,” she says, stopping him from putting himself down, leaning forward to kiss him, smiling as he chases the kiss when she pulls back, “Come with me,” she says, kissing him again before she stands up and pulls him with her, leading him to her bedroom, “Let me show you.”

He follows closely behind her, the hand not tangled with hers finding its way around her waist, his lips against her throat. She tilts her head to give him more access, sighing softly as they make it across the threshold into her bedroom. She turns in his arms, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, a soft thing that reminds them of what they’d gone through to get here, and she smiles at him when it ends. 

He watches as she steps back, just putting enough distance between them that his hands slip off her waist. She turns and pushes her hair out of the way, revealing the zipper on the back of her dress. She looks at him over her shoulder her request silent as their eyes meet, and he nods, closing the gap between them as he reaches for the zipper, gentle as he tugs it downwards, unable to tear his eyes off of her pale skin as it gets revealed to him. 

Emily closes her eyes, her breath catching in her chest as she feels his skip over her exposed skin, the warmth of his hands so close and yet so far as he pulls the zip all the way down. Then he touches her, his hands gentle as his knuckles skim across her whilst he pulls the material of her dress down her shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to her shoulder blade as he does so. 

She turns to look at him again, their eyes meeting as she lets the dress fall to the ground, revealing the matching dark green lingerie she’d bought for tonight, so determined that this would happen she’d thought to herself that she could just strip in front of him if it came to it. She feels pride and nerves mix in her belly as he looks her up and down, his eyes lingering ever so slightly on the scar on her abdomen. Silver skin that was as good as it would ever get that still hurt sometimes if she thought about it too much standing out beneath the lace material of her bra. She places her hand over the centre of the scar without meaning to, a reflex she didn’t know she had, whilst she starts to talk.

“I know it’s not-”

“No,” he says, cutting her off, closing the gap between them again as he places his hands on her bare waist, “You’re beautiful,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips briefly against hers before he moves to her cheek, then her jaw, before travelling back to her lips, “So fucking beautiful.” 

She pulls him in for a kiss, a fierceness to it that had been missing since he put a stop to them making out on the couch, and she groans as she presses herself against him, the scratch of his shirt, of his pants, against her setting her on edge. He hauls her closer, lifting her up so quickly she squeals, her arms tight around his shoulders and her legs around his hips. His hands are on her back, securing her in place as he walks them the short distance to the bed. 

She doesn’t break the kiss as he lays her down on the bed, her hands grasping at his shirt collar as she holds him close. She pulls back when oxygen becomes an issue, her vision already blurring at the edges, and she rests her forehead against his, smiling when she realises the awkward position he was half standing in as he hovered over her in the bed. 

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” she breathes out, her voice not sounding like her own, and he nods in response, stamping another kiss against her lips before he pulls back. 

He makes quick work of undressing himself and she presses her thighs together as she watches him, desperate for some relief as she finally sees what she’d been imagining for weeks. For years if she was honest with herself. She swallows thickly when he steps out of his pants and boxers in one go, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she watches him spring free.

“Definitely nothing to be embarrassed about,” she mutters, winking at him when he raises an eyebrow at her, any of his previous shyness he’d felt left in her living room. She giggles, something she’d later deny, and goes quiet again as he removes his shirt, the material rumbled by her attention falling to the floor with the rest of their clothes. 

She takes a moment to look at the scars she’d spent years imagining, taking in the varying thickness of them, the distribution that would seem random if you didn’t know any better. 

“I know they’re not-”

“No,” she says, cutting him off, repeating the interaction they’d had only minutes ago, one of the many ways they were similar, one of the many reasons she thought they were right for each other, making itself known. She reaches out a hand for him and he walks over, lowering himself onto the bed over her, “You’re beautiful,” she says, smiling softly as she runs her fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek and then the corner of his mouth, “So fucking beautiful.” 

He kisses her fiercely, his tongue swiping through her mouth in a way that steals any further conversation from her lungs. She tightens her fingers in his hair and pushes her hips up into his, letting her thighs drift apart so he can lay in the cradle of them. He hides a growl in her skin as he pulls away from the kiss, licking and nipping at her neck as he works his way down her throat and to her collarbone. 

She lifts herself up just enough for his hand to sneak underneath her. He deftly undoes her bra in one attempt and he sits up long enough to pull it off of her, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder into her room. He mutters against her skin as he explores it, words of appreciation lost against her as he sucks a bruise next to the brand mark he’d only ever read about before. 

By the time he’s done, she’s writhing beneath him, her fingers so tight in his hair she thinks she might rip some of it out as she holds him against her breasts, her nipples sore and aching for more of the attention he’d paid them. 

She fights her need to take over, the desire to push him onto the mattress and mount him, because she knows he needs this, he needs to take her apart slowly, to prove to himself something she already knew. So she lays there, lets him kiss down her abdomen, pausing to pay special attention to her scar, his lips and tongue against skin she doesn’t have full sensation in. She can feel it building in her stomach, a spark she knows will soon catch fire, and her condensed sigh turns into a moan as he licks her through her underwear. She looks up at him, resting on her elbows as their eyes meet and she bites her lip as he does it again, taking the opportunity to smell her before he pulls her underwear down her legs, his hands immediately pressing her thighs further apart as he dives back in. 

He groans at the taste of her, at the feel of her thighs tensing in his hands, and he looks up, their eyes meeting again as he continues to lick through her, making note of what draws sounds of her that he knows he’ll never tire of hearing. She looks wrecked, her eyes almost blown black from desire, and he feels proud he’s the one to do this to her, that he’s the one who has done this when he’s barely touched her. He removes one of his hands from her thigh and slips one finger and then another into her, curling them in what he knows is just the right way when a guttural sound escapes her. 

“Fuck, yes,” she groans, her eyes drifting closed for a moment before she opens them again, wanting to maintain eye contact with him, the intensity of it pushing her closer and closer to the edge, “Just like that baby, don’t stop, please.” 

He builds her up, his tongue insistent on her clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of her, her moans and the way she was begging for more, her words getting more and more breathless spurring him on. They only break eye contact when she comes, her head thrown back as she clenches around him, her thighs shaking around his head. Her elbows give way underneath her and she feels the bed dip next to her as he lays over her again, his hand next to her head as he’s careful not to squash her. 

“You okay?”

She opens her eyes and nods, finding herself incapable of being irritated at the self-satisfied grin on his face before she pulls him in for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

“More than okay,” she mutters against his lips, “Sit up by the headboard.”

He nods, kissing her once more before he does what she’s asked. She moves with him, her limbs still a little shaky as she crawls up the bed, sitting next to him once he’s settled. She gets on her knees and kisses him quickly before she pulls back, reaching between his legs and pumping him up and down a few times, the groan he lets out music to her ears. She leans down and licks the tip of him, pressing her thighs together again, already needing more relief, when he thrusts up towards her at the slightest of touches. 

“Sweetheart-”

“I want to,” she says, assuring him before he can say what she knows he’s going to say, the look in his eyes almost feral, “I want to,” she repeats, smiling at him before she leans down again, taking him in her mouth this time, one of her hands at his base, still slowly pumping him, and the other on his thigh to keep her balance. Aaron groans, one of his hands wrapping itself into her hair, holding her in place as he once again thrusts involuntarily. It makes him hit the back of her throat and causes her to gag, something that briefly worries him until she carries on, seemingly spurred on by his enjoyment of it. 

“You’re so fucking good at that,” he says, watching as she bobs up and down on him, moaning around him at the praise, “So good.” 

He feels himself getting closer, so he stops her, the hand in her hair encouraging her upwards, and she frowns as she looks at him, wiping her mouth as he pulls her closer.

“I was enjoying myself,” she says as he encourages her onto his lap, her complaint turning into a moan as he notches against her, making her toll her hips over him again.

“I was too,” he assures her, the soft way he kisses her at odds with the desperation in his grip on her hips, enough to make her know she’ll have bruises in the morning, “But thats not how I want things to end tonight.” 

She nods and leans in to kiss him, biting at his lip as she pulls back, “Next time then.”

He smiles and pushes her hair behind her head, “Next time.”

She reaches between them and lines him up with her. She presses her forehead into his as she sinks down onto him, her moan catching in her chest at the stretch, the pleasant burn she knew she’d feel the moment she first felt him get hard beneath her. 

“Fuck,” he says, his breath stolen from him at the feel of her around him, the tight heat that far surpassed anything he’d imagined whenever he thought about doing this with her. He bands his arms tight around her back, his forehead still against hers, “You feel so good.” 

“You too,” she replies, clenching around him as she tries to encourage him to move, “So good.” 

He thrusts up into her and she rolls her hips, the two of them quickly finding a rhythm, an ease to it that makes her forget this is their first time doing this. She gets lost in it, in him, letting herself memorise the feel of him, all of the ways they were connected. Cataloguing every single detail of what she knew would be her last first time.

She feels the spark in her belly again, her orgasm building quickly, her body so overwhelmed by everything she was feeling physically and emotionally. She cups his cheek and kisses him, “Close.” 

“Me too,” he says, feeling himself lose his rhythm. He reaches between them and rubs at her clit, grunting when she clenches around him again, her hips getting faster and faster as she tumbles over the edge, her teeth sinking into his shoulder as he comes. He feels a familiar tightening in his gut, a sensation that had for so long been something he’d only felt in the shower, his own fist on his skin rougher than hers had been, and he grunts, “Where?” 

“In me,” she replies, her voice ragged, as she places a hand on each of his cheeks, holding his head in place as she says it again, her lips soft against his, “In me, please.” 

He buries his face against her collarbone as he comes, finding solace in the part of her he knows will become one of his favourites. The hollow of skin sure to drive him crazy every time he caught a peek of it across a conference room now he knew how it tasted. 

They take a moment as they come down from their highs, exchanging soft kisses before she climbs off of him, both of them lying down on the bed next to each other. 

“If that’s you letting me down,” she says, desperately trying to catch her breath as she turns her head to look at him, “You can let me down as often as you want.” 

Aaron chuckles and pulls her towards him, his lips against the top of her head as she immediately curls around his side, “I might let you down in the shower if you give me thirty minutes.”

She hides her smile in his chest and looks up at him, catching his chin so she can pull him in for a kiss, “I…I love you.

She doesn’t know she’s going to say it until she has, the words hanging between them for the longest second of her life before he smiles, kissing her fiercely as he rolls them onto the bed, pressing her back into the mattress, stealing away her anxiety and her breath in equal measure. 

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice husky as he kisses her again, “I love you so much.” 

Her response is lost as he kisses down her throat and shifts down her body. She raises an eyebrow at him as she half sits up, watching as he pushes her thighs apart, “What happened to 30 minutes?” 

He smiles devilishly at her, “I need 30 minutes,” he says, dropping a kiss to her belly, “You don’t.” 

Her eyes roll back as he continues to move downwards, and she sighs contentedly. 

Dating him truly was everything she wanted it to be. 

-x-

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#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #hotchniss smut #aaron hotchner smut #emily prentiss smut

[kllingdaddy]

i personally believe that we need more hotchniss smut with emily calling aaron daddy (i have daddy issues!!!)

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss #hotchniss smut

[realtime-00]

Led Us Here

Just a little something. Haven't written in a while. Hope you like it!

In which they're both drunk and Hotch tries to be the good guy.

Warnings: Smut, oral fem receiving

18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 663

Too many fine scotches pressed into his hand by Rossi, smiling as he told them stories of Ringo behind the ring of his glass had led him here. Tequila, salt, and lime pressed into Emily’s hand whenever Derek or JJ came back from the bar that she would never turn down.

 It had led them to be pressed up against her hotel room wall. Emily’s legs wrapped around his waist; her hands woven so tight in his hair it was almost painful. Him pressing between her thighs hard enough to make her moan as his hands held the round globes of her ass. The kisses were heated, pent up desire and too much alcohol bringing them to a boiling point. 

Her hands first move down the front of his pants made him snap back to a cold reality. He couldn’t do this, he was her boss. They were also drunk making it even more wrong in his mind. It took all of his strength to pull his mouth from hers, lips chasing his making her fingers tighten even harder in his hair. “God, Emily. We can’t do this,” he breathed against her lips, his hands tightening around her cheeks just for one more feel. 

“Why not?” she panted as her lips pressed against his neck, tongue sliding up to his ear. “Don’t you want me? She licked against him. “Of course I do,” he accentuated by pushing his painful erection against her core, earing a moan from both of them. “We just can’t. I’m your boss and we’re both drunk. We can’t? he tried to reason as he saw anger flash through her eyes. 

“Fine then, don’t. I’ll finish this myself,” she said as she pushed away from him and the wall. Sauntering towards the bed with her fingers unbuttoning her blouse as he stood there frozen. Dropping the blouse to the floor with her pants following not a second later. Hotch had no idea why he was even still standing her watching. He should just turn and walk out the door, but the sight of her tiny white lace underwear kept him glued to his spot. 

He watched as she climbed on to the bed and kneeling on all fours. Her legs spread as she made no move to turn away from his hungry eyes. The wet spot in the center of her panties making his brain short circuit as his hand drifted to palm his still straining erection. 

Hotch watched as her fingers slid between her legs rubbing over the little wet patch with a practiced hand. A loud moan falling from the face he couldn’t see any more. His control was snapping. Her sweet little moans and the fingers that were now inside of the white lace bringing him to his knees behind her on the bed.

He just needed one little taste. Just to know, that’s what he told himself. His body not listening to his brain as his hands gripped her ass cheeks again, spreading her wide. Mouth falling to lick the wet patch where her fingers were moving up under. “I thought we couldn’t do this, Hotch?” she moaned as he pulled her panties to the side. “Just one taste, Em. I just need-“ he muffled into her as he buried his tongue inside of her, causing her to cry out. 

Both of her hands gripping the comforter as he ate her like a starved man. She could feel the vibrations of his moans against her, going straight to her clit. “Hotch please, please” she begged as he moved two fingers inside her. Her back arching as her orgasm ripped through her. Hotch lapped up everything she had to give, growling in to the seam of her as she heard his belt being ripped through the loops of his pants. “Are we doing this?” she panted as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, yeah we’re doing this” he panted as he climbed over her body.

#Aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss smut #hotchniss #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

[lovesclinic]

UNPROFESSIONAL ┊late at night, you and hotch get unprofessional

✧˖*°࿐ hotch x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, use of sir, praise

It was late into the night, the third day on the the case when you heard a knock on your hotel room door. "Hey, um, sorry I'm coming to you so late"

You looked at him, surprised by the knock but curious. You opened the door, slightly nervous as to what he wanted at this hour. As the door opened, you saw him, looking down, already dressed in his pajamas. "What's up, boss?"

He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting yours. "I want you to come with me." He said, with a dominant tone that hinted at something more.

You followed him, wondering what was going on. As you entered the room, you saw that it was dimly lit, with a large king-size bed dominating the space. He closed the door behind him and locked it, leaning against the door as he took in your curious expression.

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I just...I need your help on something. We're on a case, and there are some things I can't quite figure out. I trust your eye for detail." He paused, taking another deep breath. "Can I trust you?"

“Of course," you replied without hesitation, already sensing the seriousness of the situation. You stepped back, inviting him into your room. He closed the door behind him, still looking uncertain. You moved towards him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness at the prospect of helping him with the case. You followed him into the room, where he handed you a stack of files. "I need you to make sense of this.

You walked him over to the table where you kept your notes and evidence from the case. You picked up a picture of a crime scene, pointing out certain details that had caught your eye. As you talked him through it, you noticed him growing more and more tense.

He looked at you, his gaze penetrating and serious. "I need your help to make sure things are done right. The team's safety is at stake. Can I trust you to help me?"

It's late, and I know we shouldn't be doing this, but I promise, it's important." He pulled you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around you. You could feel the tension in his body begin to ease.

As he walked past you, his hand brushed against your lower back, a soft dominance that sent shivers down your spine. "Let's sit down," he suggested, guiding you to the couch.

As he moved across the room, he kept his eyes on you, studying your body language. He moved behind you, his hands reaching around to grasp your hips, pulling you close against him. He leaned in, his lips close to your ear. "I need you to focus on the details,"

“Sit down, I'll be right here," he instructed you, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. As you began to go through the files, you could feel his presence looming over you—a mix of soft dominance and anticipation that sent shivers down your spine.

"I see what you mean," he finally said after some time had passed. "This changes everything." He took a deep breath, his mind clearly racing with implications. Then, without warning, he rounded on you—not aggressively but firmly.

"Thank you", he murmured gratefully, his voice thick with emotion. You moved closer, pressing your body up against his, your hands sliding around his waist. You could feel the tension easing from his body, replaced by a warmth that spread between the two of you

You sat down beside him, feeling the warmth of his body as he leaned into you slightly. You opened up your laptop, ready to help him with whatever it was he needed. The case file appeared on the screen, and you began going through it carefully, pointing out details that caught your eye.

"Why didn't you bring this to my attention sooner?" His voice was calm but held an edge of frustration. Despite the tension in the air, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of arousal and fear from his dominance.

“I need you to understand something," he said forcefully but quietly. "This is important. If we don't solve this case, people could get hurt." His eyes bored into yours, challenging you to meet him halfway.

Hotchner watched you intently, his gaze never leaving the screen as you navigated through the case file. The room felt charged with an electric energy, both from the intensity of the case and the closeness they shared.

You met his gaze steadily, swallowing hard. "I... I wanted to be certain before involving you," you admitted, trying to maintain your composure. "I didn't want to distract you from the other aspects of the case."

He pulled you closer, one hand sliding up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips met yours, and you moaned softly, feeling his desire for you.

"I know you're dedicated," he continued, "but we have to be smart about this too. We can't afford any mistakes." His voice was steady, unwavering—a testament to his leadership skills.

As you looked back into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. His intense gaze seemed to penetrate deep into your soul, demanding honesty and commitment.

That's interesting," he murmured, leaning in closer to get a better look at what you had highlighted. You could feel his breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“I'm with you," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever it takes."

“You're so fucking sexy", he whispered against your lips, his voice husky with desire. You nipped at his lower lip, and he groaned, deepening the kiss. His hands wandered over your body, teasing and exploring.

"I know you're working hard," he added, softening his tone slightly. "But we need to work smarter too. We can't afford to miss any more crucial details." His voice was low and steady, carrying an unspoken trust in your abilities.

you felt the heat burning between you, your bodies pressed together, aching for a release. Your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it and sliding it off his hips. He gasped as your fingers encountered his semi erect cock, already leaking pre cum.

"You were right to be cautious," he acknowledged, taking a step closer to you. "But next time, don't keep something like this from me." He gave you a penetrating look, making you feel both small and impossibly vulnerable under his intense gaze.

As the kiss broke, you gasped for air, your heart racing. You looked up at him, your eyes locked on his. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want you so bad", he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You returned his kisses with equal fervor, your hands exploring his body just as eagerly. You pushed him gently against the wall, pinning him there as you continued to kiss him passionately.

You couldn't find your voice, unable to look away from him as he loomed over you. His dominance was palpable, yet there was an undercurrent of something else—something deeper and more complex.

"I... I understand," you managed to say, your voice shaking slightly. You couldn't help but feel his dominance intensifying, making you both aroused and scared in equal measure.

You broke away from the kiss, trailing kisses along his neck and collarbone. Your breath hitched as his hands slipped under your shirt, tracing patterns on your bare skin. You pulled him closer, and he obeyed, pressing his body fully against yours.

You felt the heat between your legs intensify as he pushed you up against the wall, their bodies flush together. He teased your ear with soft kisses and whispers, "I need to see how much of a good girl you are."

His hand moved down to your thigh, gently pushing your panties aside. He took a step back, still holding onto your shirt, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His eyes met yours, filled with lust and anticipation.

You arched into his touch, needy and eager for more. You bit your bottom lip, trying to control the whimpers that threatened to escape as he continued his teasing. "Yes, sir", you whispered back, feeling a thrill of anticipation and submission coursing through you.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continued to watch you. You couldn't wait for him to take you; you wanted him inside you more than anything else in that moment.

You bit your lip, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. Taking a shaky breath, you nodded slightly, giving him permission to proceed. His fingers traced along your folds, teasing the sensitive skin before finally entering you.

You watched as he stepped closer, his fingers tracing along your sensitive folds. You arched into his touch, needing more. He smiled, his eyes darkening. "You're so wet for me," he whispered against your skin.

“Good girl", he praised, his voice rough with desire. He reached down, undoing your pants and pulling them off in one swift movement. He smirked at the sight of your wet pussy, his fingers tracing the outline of your sex through your panties.

“Come here, baby," he commanded softly. You obeyed without hesitation, moving closer to him until you were pressed against his hard length. He groaned softly, and his hands slid up your back, holding you tightly against him.

“So fucking wet for me", he growled lowly, his fingers moving in and out of you with a skillful rhythm. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss while his other hand gripped your ass, pulling you closer to him.

He pushed you down onto your knees, feeling his arousal against your back. His hands found the button of your jeans, and he unbuttoned them slowly, knowing it would drive you crazy with anticipation.

“I'm going to spank your pretty little ass now." His words were like a soft command, his dominant side showing through. You felt a mix of fear and excitement as he spanked your ass, each slap echoing through the room.

Despite the sting, you moaned, unable to hide your arousal. He smirked, knowing he had you right where he wanted you. "That's it, baby," he growled, his fingers finding their way inside you.

"I want to hear you moan, baby." He whispered, nipping at your collarbone. You moaned softly as he moved his hands under your skirt, sliding his fingers over your bare flesh.

As the spankings continued, you couldn't help but moan out his name. It felt both punishing and arousing. He pulled you back against his hard length, grinding his hips against your ass. "That's it,"

You bit your lower lip, trying to stifle your cries of pleasure as he began to thrust deeper into you. The head of his cock brushed against your sensitive entrance, teasing before finally pushing inside. He groaned, filling you up slowly.

He slid a finger inside you, watching your face as he slowly began to thrust. You moaned, rocking your hips back into his hand. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and dirty.

he growled into your ear, "show me how much of a good girl you are." His fingers found their way back to your slick folds, teasingly rubbing against your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back any longer.

You moaned as he touched you, pushing closer to his fingers. He gripped your thighs, lifting you up and onto the nearby desk. He spread your legs, exposing your moist pussy to his touch. "You're so fucking eager,"

Feel how much you turn me on." He groaned, nipping at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. You could feel him growing harder against your back, and it excited you even more.

"Please, do you", he said, pushing closer still, his cock rubbing teasingly against your panties. You moaned, reaching back to grip his shirt. "Say it," he purred, pressing his lips to your neck. "

You panted, your heart racing as he continued to tease. "I'm yours," you whispered, biting your lip. He growled low in his throat, a mix of desire and possession lacing his voice. "That's my good girl."

With one swift move, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands moved to your panties, sliding them down your legs as he stepped out of his own pants. Finally, he positioned himself at your entrance, his hard length pressing against your slick folds.

“Now, let me hear you beg for it." He purred, slipping a finger beneath your panties. You arched into his touch, moaning softly. "Please, Aaron..." you breathed.

You gasped, arching your back as he slipped his fingers under your silk panties, tracing patterns on your bare flesh. "I...need...your..." you murmured, barely able to get the words out between gasps.

"Your what, baby?" he asked, nipping gently at your earlobe. "Do you need me to touch you here?" he asked, his fingers brushing against your clit through your panties. You shuddered under his touch, your breathing ragged.

“Yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. "Please, I need it." He chuckled softly, pulling away from your ear to look into your eyes. "You're such a good girl."

"Please," you cried, pushing against him. "Touch me." Aaron growled in approval, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your legs, freeing your throbbing clit from its confines

"Tell me," he urged, his voice low and demanding. "Tell me how much you need me." You whimpered, feeling your body tremble with anticipation. "Say it," he ordered, his fingers moving faster, teasing your sensitive nub.

With that, he slid his fingers deeper into your panties, finally touching your clit directly. You screamed out his name, your body bowing off the floor under the intensity of his touch.

He groaned lowly, his fingers finding your clit immediately. He started to massage it gently, circling his index and middle finger around the tiny bud. "Tell me if it's too much,"

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, his lips at your earlobe, his breath warm against your neck. You buried your fingers in his hair and arched against him, whimpering. "Fuck... I need... your cock..."

"I... I need you so much," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. His fingers stopped their teasing dance, instead pressing firmly against your clit. "Aaron," you moaned, arching into his touch. "Please, I can't take much more."

"I need you...to..," you moaned, arching into his touch. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing the lace of your panties. "Please," you begged, your voice breaking.

Aaron felt you trembling beneath him, his fingers moving faster against your sensitive flesh. "Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his other hand moving to grip his cock firmly through his pants.

He reached between your legs and pulled your panties down, lifting your hips up so that he could access your pussy. His fingers sought out your clit, circling it gently at first, then more roughly, his free hand holding your waist to support you.

With a low growl, Aaron picked you up and pinned you against the wall, their hips grinding together. His other hand slid under your skirt, slipping your panties down your thighs and tossing them aside.

"Perfect," he purred, gripping the waist of your skirt firmly and sliding his finger across your slick entrance. You moaned, the noise a mixture of need and anticipation.

“So fucking tight," he groaned, thrusting his fingers deep inside you. You gasped at the intrusion, your walls gripping his fingers tightly. "You're mine," he growled, his mouth finding your neck once more.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice trembling. He smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. With one swift motion, he lifted your skirt and pushed your panties aside, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

His fingers traced your entrance, teasing and prodding gently. "You're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. With one swift motion, he pushed past your folds, penetrating you deeply. You gasped, feeling him fill you completely.

His hips met yours in a rhythmic dance, their bodies slapping together with each deep thrust. His other hand found one of your breasts, massaging and pinching the nipple, sending shivers down your spine. "Feel how much you own me,"

His hips started to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he thrusts rhythmically inside of you. Every inch inside of you felt like heaven, and you found yourself meeting his thrusts with moans and gasps of pure pleasure.

“Fuck," he groaned, pulling back slowly before pushing back in again. You moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist, arching into his touch. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh fuck," he growled, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. You could feel him building inside you, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls.

Their bodies moved together in a primal dance, fueled by lust and need. His mouth found yours, claiming it roughly as his hips pistoned faster. You tasted his desire on his lips, mirroring the feelings coursing through your veins.

As he felt you nearing climax, he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming almost violent. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your moans turning into pleasured cries. Finally, he felt the telltale tremors within you, signaling your orgasm.

“Fuck, I'm close," he gasped, picking up the pace. You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders as the intensity of the pleasure built inside you. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his hips pumping faster.

“Oh fuck," he growled, pushing your back against the wall. His hips moved in a blur, his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy. You could feel him getting closer, the way his hips pumped harder, faster.

The heat of his skin against yours, the roughness of his hands on your hips, it all combined to send you spiraling out of control. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your nails digging into his shoulders as you tried to hold on.

Then, with a final, deep thrust, he came inside you. His cock pulsed, filling you completely as he let out a long, low moan of satisfaction. His body shook against yours, their combined weight holding you against the wall.

"Harder," you cried, your voice hoarse with desire. He obliged, thrusting into you harder, deeper, his movements growing more frenzied. You felt the beginnings of your climax building, the tingles in your core turning into a burning need for release.

With one final thrust, Aaron buried himself to the hilt inside you, groaning loudly as he came, his seed shooting deep into your womb. You moan loudly, your own orgasm ripping through you, body shuddering under the intensity of the pleasure.

Slowly, he pulled out of you, his cock slipping wetly from your pussy. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, their breaths mixing in the air. His heartbeat was racing, his chest rising and falling rapidly under your hands.

As he regained his breath, he leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were intense, boring into yours as if trying to see something deep within you.

With a groan of completion, Aaron thrust into you one last time, his hips slamming against you like a pounding heartbeat. You cried out as your body shuddered in ecstasy, your orgasm taking you completely by surprise.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "I'm yours." His hands slid down to your hips, holding you gently but firmly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

His thrusts became even more frantic as he reached his own climax, filling you with his hot seed. He growled low in his throat, his hips slamming into yours in a rhythm that felt primal and forbidden. This was addicting—too addicting.

Finally, he stilled, his hips still pressed against yours. You were both panting heavily, his sweat mingling with yours on your skin. You looked up at him, feeling a wave of desire wash over you again. "More," you breathed. "Please. Again."

Fuck," he groaned, collapsing against you. You panted heavily, your heart racing. You knew you couldn't let this happen again. But god, it felt so good.

Hotch's breathing was ragged as he finally pulled out of you, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on your inner thigh. He rolled off of you, still panting heavily.

He thrust one last time, and cried out, his voice raw with pleasure. You heard him grunt in satisfaction as he pulled out of you, his soft cock pulsing with each thrust. He held you close for a moment, his heart hammering against yours.

He ran a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I shouldn't have done that," he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's against protocol." The admission only seemed to make him look more vulnerable.

"It's too dangerous," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our lives are complicated enough without adding this to the mix." His dominant exterior resurfaced, masking the vulnerability he'd momentarily shown.

As you accept the files, a mix of concern and determination etched on your face, you assure him once more that you'll do your best. "I'll go through these thoroughly, Hotch. I promise."

His hands trailed slowly down your back, stopping at your hips. "You feel so fucking good," he mumbled, his breath hot against your ear. "I don't want this to end."

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[forhappysake]

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[criminalmindsgonewrong]

trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

She's caught by his eyes, held there by his gaze, and she swallows, unblinking, and swivels on tall heels that are far too expensive to touch this filthy floor, heading straight for his booth. He watches her approach, like he's wary of her, and she sees it all then.

rating: explicit. oral, f/receiving. sex.

pairing: hotchniss. emily is angsty and hotch is still gone.

wordcount: 5.7k 

set between annihilator and last gasp.

read it on ff.net, ao3 or under the cut

She's not supposed to be here.

Here, in this bar. Here, in this country. Here, alive. They're all true in some way or another.

It's a dark and dingy dive bar, but it's pretty busy, and she uses the unsavoury crowd as cover, seating herself in a shadowy corner where the lamp above her head is broken so she has a good view of the rest of the bar, but nobody can really see her. It's not the sort of place she had ever expected to find him before.

Before.

Before they met, before he lost Haley, before Scratch.

He didn't belong here then and she doesn't belong here now. She belonged in cocktail bars on the Upper East Side, she belonged in a beach cabana, on the arm of some 1% CEO. That was where she belonged, according to the way she was written, the life that had been planned for her before she was even considered or conceived of. Unfortunately for her mother, Emily Prentiss had been born with a defect; she always wanted more. She belonged at the shooting range, in interrogation rooms, on the streets, in lecture theatres. That was how her stars had aligned.

Emily had been afforded every opportunity, given every advantage, and she still managed to want more than Elizabeth had ever seen for her. She wanted to live, to change, to leave a mark. She still wants it, she does it everyday. It's become exhausting.

He doesn't know she's here. For someone who worked in Law Enforcement for the best part of three decades, he's not very observant, anymore. He's gotten slack. He's stopped looking over his shoulder, and in some ways that's good, but if he's not that, then who is he? Maybe she doesn't know him anymore. Maybe he's not the person she came looking for. He has a new identity, a new name, probably a whole new persona, perhaps that's who he is now, and he's forgotten the team, the job, her.

It's too hard. Just as she makes the decision to leave, just as she stands up to cross the sticky, dark linoleum to the door with the broken glass window, he stands, too, and she freezes. She knows he's seen her before she even looks up, caught like a rabbit in headlights, and now it's too late to pretend she was never here. When she meets his eyes, there's recognition and relief and fear and so much there that even she can't read it all and then she couldn't have walked out even if she wanted to.

She's caught by his eyes, held there by his gaze, and she swallows, unblinking, and swivels on tall heels that are far too expensive to touch this filthy floor, heading straight for his booth. He watches her approach, like he's wary of her, and she sees it all then. The imprint his career has left on him. You can't bear so much responsibility for so long, and not be marked by it. She stands there a moment, at the edge of the booth. Then he sinks into his seat, and she sits opposite him, and neither of them say anything besides hello until, mercifully, a young, impatient waitress comes to take their order. He orders a scotch and, without missing a beat, a vodka with slimline tonic and lime, and she knows he's still in there, he's still who she needs him to be, because he remembers what she drinks.

He's not her boss anymore, but breaking the habit of a lifetime is hard. It's why she still bites her nails and it's why she hesitates before him. Hesitates like she's still the barely-thirty year old who walked into his office as a lie, or, worse still, the nineteen year old who shamelessly flirted with him in front of her poor, mortified mother. He never brought that up, never teased her for it, and she's as disappointed as she is relieved by that. She almost brings it up now, uses it to break the silence between them, but she doesn't. Instead, she sits, watching him watch her.

He needs to know why, but he doesn't ask, not here. It's dangerous, they both know it. She's put him in danger just by being here, but she can't even bring herself to feel bad about it as she looks at him. Sure, his hair's a little longer than it was the last time she saw him, and there are a few smile lines around his eyes now, which are nice to see. His hair is flecked with silver, around his temples and his eyes, just a dusting, but she likes it. It makes him softer, somehow. How long has it been? Just over two years? They've gone longer without contact. No, they've gone longer without seeing each other in person. There was always contact.

Just checking in. Can I pick your brain? Hope you're well. Happy birthday, Hotch. Merry Christmas. I hope Jack's enjoying the holiday's. Happy New Year, Emily. Look at this video of these idiots doing karaoke.

But they haven't spoken in two years. She knows nothing about his life now. That's how it was supposed to be, but it has been harder than she ever expected, and she wonders if it's the same for him. She knows it is; she once had to cut ties with the team, too, and it nearly killed her.

She wonders if he knows how badly she's fucking it all up.

Wonders how much he's heard from her team, that he really shouldn't have. She knows he's had correspondence with Dave, and wonders if maybe he's heard from Penelope or JJ. Does he stay in touch with Reid? If so, he would have notified the silence. Did Reid explain everything, once he was released from literal fucking prison, where he ended up because of her. Hotch never would have let that happen. She did. She's fucking up and, as she looks at him across the table, she wonders if he can read it in her eyes, and they suddenly fill with tears that she's unable to shed in front of her team. But he's not part of that team anymore.

"Come on," He's on his feet immediately, offering her his hand, and they're gone, disappearing into the night before the waitress can bring their drinks.

They walk hand in hand, and it's strange that it doesn't feel strange, because they've never done that before. Maybe she'll stay here with him. Change her name, too. It wouldn't be the first time. Or even the second.

This city reminds her of New York, but it's not. The buildings are tall, the blocks long. Foliage is few and far between, and she knows without asking that he misses the lush, sprawling parks of DC, and all of the running he used to do there, come rain or shine.

He clings to her hand, and she knows it's because he's lonely here, with only Jack. What does he do here? Has he made friends? Has he met any women? These are the questions she wants to ask, will ask, but not right now. Right now, she just squeezes his hand, reassures him that she's really here, reassures herself that she is. It's been so long.

For every stride he takes, she takes two, and it's just another reminder that she can't do it, she can't do everything he did. She can't keep up, or stand where he stood. Emily stops, and her hand slides out of his as she falls a few paces behind.

"Come back," it's not how she intended to ask, as the words fall desperately, pleadingly from her throat like a cry, but once they're out, there's no pulling them back. Instead, she reinforces. "Come back."

He's a few paces ahead of her, but frozen, and it's the first time she notices what he's wearing. Jeans and a grey t-shirt. And that's so wrong. She actually shakes her head, blinks, as though she's seeing things. Her head hurts.

"Emily," His voice is soft, and he simply holds out his hand to her, "Come on."

She's lost already, and she knows it, but she takes his hand, anyway. Let's him lead her through streets she doesn't know. Trusts him, implicitly, as she always has.

It's not the job; she has always been good at that. It's not the paperwork; she ran Interpol for four years. She just can't run her family like a business, doesn't know how he did it. Doesn't understand how he kept his love for them out of the equation. Everytime she sends JJ into the field, she remembers chains wrapped around her wrists. Everytime she asks Reid to go to a suspect's house, she sees Hankel pounding on his chest. Even Penelope isn't safe, and each time Emily looks at her, she sees the bulletwound she knows is still there. She wonders how he did it for all of those years, sent his family into the lion's jaws.

She lets him lead her to his apartment. Jack's out, he comments as he unlocks the door. Jack, who's (she quickly works it out in her head) thirteen now. A teenager. Wow. Emily briefly wonders when the last time they spoke to Jessica was. She hopes not too long ago.

It's a nice place. Nothing like his old apartment; it's all big windows and high ceilings and, clearly, the FBI pension pays well. Oak floors her mother would approve of. Three bedrooms, he tells her, and they both try to be nonchalant when he tells her she can have the spare. They both know he's said that just for show.

Because they share a secret.

Because they have unfinished business.

It was years ago. An almost. A not quite. A someday. Just before Haley died. Days before Foyet found her, and never since. Guilt, she supposes, on both parts. The Reaper was hunting his son's mother, and Aaron was feeling up Emily. It's distasteful, to say the least. They've never spoken of it since, never revisited it. It was over before it even began, and they've both made their peace with that over the intervening years. They're friends.

But she misses him, and she desperately hopes he misses her, too.

He does.

Not a day has passed where he hasn't thought of her. She's on his mind more than he would ever care to admit, and not in a professional capacity. Well, sometimes in a professional capacity. He wonders how she's handling being Unit Chief, how she dealt Spencer's arrest, which he knew was a farce, even from so far away. Sometimes he likes to imagine her interacting with the beautrecrats he knows she hates dealing with. He sees her waving through red tape like cobwebs, thanks in part to her full lips and endless lashes and, yes, plunging necklines, but mostly because of her ironclad will and relentless stubbornness, which infuriated him so much when she was his subordinate but are some of her most advantageous traits now that she's the one in charge. There was no question, when he put in his request for retirement and the Director asked for his word on who should take up the mantle. Dave had promised to assist her, and Aaron had firmly reminded him, she ran Interpol for four years, Dave. She's perfectly capable. She'll be okay. Better than okay.

He knows he's asked a lot of her.

And what about my team? How many more times will they be able to look into the abyss, how many times before they won't ever recover the pieces of themselves that this job takes?

He put all of it onto her shoulders, asked her to carry it without even being able to ask her himself. Shirked his responsibilities and laden them onto the one person he knew could survive it, because, much as they've both avoided it over the years, they're much more alike than either of them will ever admit. She wasn't even a member of the team when he'd asked it of her, asked her to leave behind her position, her life, London, the boyfriend he'd heard about through Dave, who didn't seem to think much of Mark. It wasn't easy, to put it all onto her; he thought she'd never forgive him for it. But he can't go back.

She knows that. Even before she asks him, she knows.

The kitchen is bespoke, though not to Aaron's taste. To whomever lived here before the Hotchner boys did. It's nice, she supposes. Pristine. She wonders who cooks here, because she can't remember whether or not he does. The most she ever saw him make was a coffee. Oh and she thinks maybe he boiled a pan of pasta in Dave's kitchen one time.

Now, though, it's the wine fridge he heads for. It's not full, just a few bottles. He pulls out a crisp, cold Orvieto and she wonders if he's been waiting for her to come around. Italian wines have always been her favourite. It's stupid to assume he's kept it for her, though. Or maybe it's not.

"It's good," he tells her, as he hands her a glass that's much too full to be polite. "Drink."

And she does, and it is. It's light, dry and uncomplicated. The aftertaste is slightly bitter. Emily runs her tongue over her bottom lip, looks up at him, meets his gaze. He's as unreadable as ever, and there's something so charmingly familiar about that. It makes her smile at him, like a reflex.

He returns the smile, then passes her, wine glass in hand, and gestures to the sofa. It's soft, comfortable, and a colour he never would have chosen, but that's fine. Emily kicks off her shoes and tucks her bare legs beneath her. They talk.

They talk about the team, and Emily fills him in on everything he doesn't know, although she learns quickly how updated Penelope has kept him. She shakes her head, but she can hardly reprimand Penelope; she's not planning for anybody to know she's been here. He doesn't seem too upset, though, by the way he's looking at her. She misses that, misses that look in his eyes. Nobody looks at her like that anymore. They look at her like the boss, and like a friend, she supposes, but she's the boss first and foremost these days, and she hates it. She hates that Penelope occasionally calls her ma'am. She hates that when Penelope made the rota that listed who could visit Spencer in jail, and when, she wrote Prentiss instead of Emily. She hates the distance she feels between her and JJ these days. Hates that she's always the last to hear about evening drinks, because she's in her office signing off on all of their paperwork, when she used to be the one suggesting drinks in the first place.

She misses how easy it was, those early days at the BAU. But she's idealising; things have never really been easy.

"Aaron-" Maybe it's the way she says his name, but he hears everything she can't say. She's questioning, hesitant. Her eyes draw him in, and then he's kissing her. It's a shy kiss, testing the waters. It's been years, but it's the same. She still shouldn't be kissing him, but he's not her boss anymore. He's just a guy from a bar, and she's just a girl who needs to feel something other than the fear that's held her in its vice-like grip for over a year now.

Because she's fucking up, because she's not him. It was wrong of him to expect her to be him, to step into his shoes and run for miles in them. To lead his team. People she knows well and loves even more; the only family she has ever truly known. Those same people now look at her with expectant eyes and try not to judge her for each wrong choice she is making because they're not his choices. She knows it, they know it and, worst of all, she thinks he knows it.

But none of that matters when he kisses her because this is their unfinished business, his and hers, nobody elses, and it's been eight years and he's still never fucked her.

Almost. Eight years and five states away, in her old, tall brownstone. The one she gave up because it was too permanent, too much like commitment, and if she wasn't going to commit to him then she couldn't commit to anyone or anything else, either.

They'd almost had everything, and she's reminded of it all as he kisses her, like it's eight years ago and Haley isn't dead and Ian never came back and he never left her behind with the responsibility of their friends lives on her shoulders. Like she doesn't resent him for all of it.

"Aaron," She's not angry anymore. She's not even sad. She's just desperate to have him close to her. It's what they deserve. They've waited long enough. He can hear it in her voice, and he's growing so hard that it's almost painful as they move so that she's laying beneath him on the sofa, her knees spread for his narrow hips to fit between as she twines their fingers together and drags his hand up to her chest, offering herself to him. He complies, palming at her tits through her thin summer dress. He stops kissing her long enough to breathe, long enough to search her eyes for any hesitation or worry, and finds none. Only determination. She's always been beautiful, but right now, her pupils dilated with desire and her cheeks flushed with heat, she's radiant.

He's imagined her like this so many times, as his hands explore her body and he relearns the taste of her kisses. He's come undone to the fictional version of her in his head, to the flash of her dark eyes across his memory, to the remembrance of her lips and everything they almost had, all of their near misses, more times than he can count or would ever admit. This is better, so much better. This doesn't feel like a betrayal, like passing his own hand over his hard cock, her name on his lips, like he's violating her because she doesn't know she's the figure in all of his fantasies, doesn't know how he loses control to the thought of her on her knees in front of him, taking him apart with just a glance. No, this time she definitely knows. She knows by the way he's rutting against her, even fully clothed, and she's relishing in it, arching her back to push her breasts firmly into his hands, into his mouth.

He's wanted her forever, and denied them both for far too long.

"God, Emily," He says her name like a prayer, his breath hot against her puckered nipple, and Emily closes her eyes at the sensation.

"Please, Aaron," She pulls on his neck, pulls him up so that his face is once again level with hers, and it's almost painful, the way she clings to him, "I need you, Aaron." She kisses him again, breathing heavily, "please don't pull away from me."

Usually she can read him better than anyone else, but this time she has mistaken him, because he's not pulling away, he's not leaving her this time. If the world had stopped turning on its' axis, if a meteor had fallen from the sky, if the oceans had frozen over, he couldn't have stopped himself from shoving her dress up, (she tears it over her head and it's immediately lost and forgotten somewhere on the floor) and finally, finally, he's got her. It's been fucking decades. She's his holy grail, his Ultima Thule. The farthest point, unattainable. Never even an option, not really, but for the briefest moment in their history. And right now.

He's not her boss, anymore, so he feels no guilt as he returns his mouth to her breast, leaving sore little marks behind, making her his with every bite, every gyration of his tongue. He knows she's wet because her legs are wrapped around his torso, and he can feel the dampness of her against his skin, the way her underwear sticks to him, peeling away as she lowers her hips. She's soaked. He can't even remember taking off his shirt. Maybe she did it.

He hooks a finger through her underwear, his knuckle grazing her, and she whimpers, she's so sensitive. It's so hot that he groans, deep in his throat.

She's not supposed to be here, and maybe she's not really. Maybe he's dreaming and this is another of his fantasies, and he'll feel guilty for it when he wakes, but not guilty enough to stop himself from palming himself to completion. Maybe he'll feel guilty afterwards, for using her memory in this way.

But she is here, because Emily doesn't cry in his dreams, but she's crying now. Not hysterically, she hasn't even acknowledged the silent flow of tears, sliding down the sides of her face, into her dark hair. It's not sadness, he can read that much about her. She's overwhelmed, desperately overwhelmed. That's when he realises how much she's wanted this; as much as he has.

She's suddenly cold, as Aaron sits up, sits away from her, but he takes hold of her hands, pulling her onto his lap, so she's straddling him and their chests are pressed together. He pushes the dark hair back from her face, his dark eyes searching her features, studying her. She's ruining his jeans, but he doesn't care. He can feel how hard and fast her heart is beating in her chest, and she gasps for breath, blinking away the last of her tears. He bumps his nose against hers, gently, searches, softly, for her mouth. This kiss is long and, desperate as they are for each other, somehow even more intimate than seeing her naked, than his lips on her breasts. His hands splay across her bare back, pressing her ever closer to him, and her hands are in his hair.

"I've got you," Nobody can read her like he can and it makes her cry harder, makes her shake in his lap. "You're not fucking up, Emily. You never have, you never could," He shakes his head, and her hands drop from his hair to his neck, her thumbs tracing his jaw. He turns his head, kisses the pad of one thumb, and it's so soft it makes her ache. "I've got you, Emily." It's what she needs; to let go, to be reassured, to be safe. She's safe with him. She always has been.

Aaron tucks his hands beneath her thighs, holding her tight, and stands up, holding her tight to him, as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as though she might blink and suddenly wake up, alone, and he'll be gone, again.

"I have you," He repeats, as he sets her down on his bed and she lays back against the pillows, watching as he unbuckles his jeans, shoving them down, along with his boxers. She gets a glimpse of him, hard and thick, before he crawls on to the bed, between her legs. Emily watches as he studies her, dark eyes roaming her pale skin, from her face, to her breasts, settling between her legs. Her cheeks burn; she's never been comfortable with being studied there. Is any woman? Somehow, it's worse because it's Aaron.

"You don't have to-" She starts to say, but he cuts her off with a glance that makes her press her lips together, and she knows she's in trouble. He's laying on his tummy, his head between her thighs, and there's a smirk on his face. "Fuck," Emily breathes out, her head slamming back against the pillows as she feels his mouth, hot and wet, against her centre.

God, she's delicious. His tongue is flat against her core, pressing hard against her little bundle of nerves, alternating between that and fluttering lightly over her. He's so intent on his actions that it takes him a moment to glance up at her. He smiles when he does because what he sees is so un-Emily that it's adorable. She's got an arm thrown over her face, as though she's embarrassed by her own pleasure, and he reaches up with one hand, the other starting to tease at her opening, intent on bringing her more pleasure, and gently grips her forearm. She resists only a moment, then lets him pull her arm away from her face, but her eyes are closed tight as she focuses on the feelings he's bringing her, as his index finger slides easily into her thanks to her slick, and he adds a second, with a little bit of resistance this time, but he knows it's what she needs.

"You're so beautiful, Emily," He growls into her cunt, and she practically mewls, the gush of fluid that coats his tongue evidence of how much she appreciates the praise. "Oh, she likes that," He teases, and even as he messes with her, he's folding his fingers through hers, entwining their hands against the bedsheets, grounding her. She squeezes his hand, her free hand coming up to tweak at her nipples, to tug a little.

He knows she's close when he feels her thigh tense against his head, and quickens the movement of his tongue, shaking his head back and forth, his tongue mimicking the motion.

"H-Hotch," Emily stutters, her chest heaving, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, "Aaron." She practically hisses his name, trying not to close her legs around his head. Her hand isn't on her breast anymore, but on her thigh, blunt nails digging in, as the pressure builds. Her world is narrowed to where his tongue is pushing into her, grazing against the ring of her entrance, making her nerves twitch.

Aaron's hips rut against the mattress, and she's done for. Head thrown back, mouth open, breath caught in her throat, Emily goes rigid beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing over her all at once. He's still going, his tongue working furiously to prolong her orgasm, but as soon as it starts to subside, it's too much and she has to push him away, her hips twitching, her cunt pulsing, contracting, and she's dragging him up the length of her body, her hand reaching between them to guide him inside of her. It's not until then that he realises how ready she has always been for him, in the way her eyes flutter closed, tongue caught between her teeth, at the sensation of him sliding into her body.

"I've got you," She echoes his words, her voice shaking in the aftermath of her pleasure, as he presses his forehead to hers, staring down the length of their bodies, watching intently as he sinks into her, unable to believe that, after all this time, he's finally home.

He slides into her, until he meets resistance, and then he pauses, eyes tracking back up her body to meet hers. They're closed tight in concentration, as she adjusts to the size of him, her breathing shallow and uneven, and he can feel her heartbeat inside of her, against his cock, pulsating. Her chest is flushed and damp, as are her cheeks. There are little lines between her eyes where she's frowning, just a little, and the tell tale signs of greying hair at her roots. She's not nineteen anymore, and he's not twenty-three. He leans down, kissing the tip of her nose, and her eyes flare wide in surprise. The frown lines are gone, replaced instead by smile likes as her face spreads into a grin, her tears, her sadness, her anxieties all forgotten as she leans up to kiss him.

Hotch grasps for her hip, as her lips meet his, levering himself against her as he starts to move, dragging his cock out of her agonisingly slowly, driving back into her at the same teasing pace, and she doesn't rush him, because she can feel everything, all of him, every ridge and vein, and he's relishing in her wet heat, his breath deep and heavy at the tightness of her.

"Finally," He doesn't even realise he's said it outloud, but as his lips move over hers, the noise Emily makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob because yes, finally.

His need is growing, the slow pace becoming almost unbearable. Emily can feel it in the way his grip on her hip is no longer gentle, but tighter, harder, his other hand tensed against the headboard, gripping it so hard his knuckles are white.

"Aaron," The whine that escapes her throat makes his head snap down to look at her, his eyes taking the whole scene in, from her flushed face to her puckered nipples, the pane of her stomach that is softer than it was all those years ago, to the slit between her legs where his cock is disappearing inside of her, and back to those eyes, full of dark, carnal desire. "Aaron, please," Her voice is little more than a whisper, little more than a whine, and it's full of need as she begs him, her words almost tipping him over the edge, "I need you, Aaron. God, please, fuck me."

Her hands are on his ass, blunt nails pressing into his skin, forcing him deeper inside of her, and it's all the encouragement he needs to start up a rapid pace, because how could he ever deny her when she asks like that, and he hears the satisfied, sinful moan that comes from the back of her throat, praising him, urging him on. She raises her leg to wrap it around him, opening herself up to him even more. He buries his face in her neck, sucking at the delicate, sensitive skin there, and one of her hands lifts immediately to slide into his hair, the other splayed across his back, his hips pistoning into her, both of them coiled like springs.

Their foreplay has gone on for years. Every glance across the bullpen, every pass of her tongue over full, red lips. Every low cut top, and every not-so-subtle glance from him towards her neckline. Every drink he ever bought her, and every time she stayed late at the office. This. It was all leading to this.

He can feel that she's close, doubling his efforts, desperate to let her fall first. "Come on, Em," He growls, encouraging, and she's so responsive to his words, moaning her appreciation, that it makes his hips stutter, and she cries out. "Fuck. That's right, baby," He kisses her, wet and hard and deep, his tongue pressing, tasting, curling around hers, and then she comes undone, his rapid pace bringing her quickly to her second climax. Cries out in sudden, anguished pleasure, drowning, losing her breath.

She's prone beneath him, rigid, her overstimulated cunt contracting around his cock, and Aaron's mouth falls open at the sensation, his face pressed against hers, teeth grazing her chin, his vision blurred, and he knows how much mess there already is between her legs, even as he adds to it, his stomach muscles tightening, his core burning, and he's hers. He knows it, from now until the end of times, he's hers. And fuck why haven't they been doing this all these years.

His arms give out, finally, and he collapses on top of her, spent and not as young as he once was. Heavy as he is, she wraps her arms around him, stroking his back and his hair, soothingly, as they both try to catch their breath. She loves it, the closeness, the weight of him, she's longed for it always. The smell of him all over her skin, the way he's still inside of her, even as he softens, slipping, wet, against her leg, leaving part of himself behind. For a blinding, insane moment, the image of a dark haired little girl flashes through Emily's mind, and she knows it's not her, it's not a memory. It's someone else, entirely. Maybe she exists in another universe, their daughter, but she doesn't exist here, and the thought is fleeting, and likely impossible now, given her age. They're not young, anymore, like they once were. But they're not dead, either. They've just proven that. There is still life left to live.

He's not coming back, but she just might leave it all behind for him yet.

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