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iamnotoriginalphil · 1 year

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Matched (Alex Blake x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Alex inadvertently matches with you on Tinder, and you decide that’s a sigh to tease her until she cracks

Words: 8.3k

Warnings: 18+, edging, masturbating, overestimation, thigh riding, swearing, mommy kink, praise kink, possessiveness, teasing, age gap, marking

Alex hadn’t known what had made her download the app. The divorce had been finalised and the house had felt big and empty and maybe she’d been feeling a little lonely. She hadn’t even gotten as far as setting up a profile before closing out of the app and forgetting it was on her phone. She’d known, even then, that Tinder was not for her.

So now, with a little too much wine in her and the kind of ache between her legs that her own fingers couldn’t take care of, the app was staring up at her. She figured it would be a bit of a laugh to see what was out there, just out of curiosity. And maybe it would make her feel better about herself to see how many other single women were out there.

Setting up a profile was more difficult than she’d been expecting. Finding pictures of herself she thought she looked good in made her feel disappointed in herself. Writing any kind of appealing bio was a struggle despite her mastery of words. Eventually she gave up, just leaving it as it was rather than nitpicking over it.

The swiping was a fun, almost like a game. The more wine that passed her lips, the more she was enjoying herself. There were so many pretty women out there, and plenty of them seemed interested in someone over 40. Even some of the younger ones.

Sitting in bed, almost ready to sleep, she swiped left on someone. It felt like the wind had been knocked from her. Staring up, smiling in such a familiarly bright way, your face filled her screen. You were so beautiful, grinning up, eyes sparkling. She drank up each photo you’d added, finding something that could only be classified as a boudoir photo at the end.

Her hand drifted down as she stared at it. She hadn’t even realised you were queer, that you’d be interested in women. Her eyes couldn’t look away. Your sultry look into the camera. The skin on display. The lace of your lingerie.

She sighed as her fingers found her heat, circling over her clit. She was already so wet. She might have been looking for someone else’s fingers but just being able to look at you was enough. She couldn’t get enough. There was no teasing for her. She needed it hard and fast, that picture lighting something she hadn’t been expected.

She was a panting mess soon enough, fingers thrusting in and out of her. She could imagine they were yours, smouldering eyes watching as she came undone. It was your name on her lips when she came. In the haze of her orgasm, she swiped right on your picture, locking the phone and rolling over, sleep claiming her.

The next morning, the shame had settled in her stomach but she didn’t immediately remember why. Rolling over to check her phone she saw a notification from Tinder. She wasn’t sure she’d been expecting any matches on the app but to see it with your name attached had her flinging the phone away from her.

She could remember that photo, like it was burnt into her mind.

Crawling over the bed, she found the phone again. Staring down at the notification, her heart rate felt as if it tripled. There was no way to explain it to you. Monday in the office was going to be excruciating. With panic in her heart, she deleted the app, hoping it would make it all go away. No evidence to be found. You’d never know anything had happened.

She did her best to forget about it over the weekend.

On Monday, yours was the first face she saw. You were sitting at your desk, spinning in your chair, only stopping when you say her. Your face lit up. She slunk into her desk, not able to look you in the eye. That picture was still haunting her.

“Have a big Friday night?” you asked, “busy weekend?”

“If by busy you mean drinking wine at home alone, then yes, very busy,” she said.

“Didn’t do any physical activity? No getting hot and sweaty?” There was so much mirth in your voice.

She looked up finally, her cheeks heating when she saw the grin on your face. You lent forward. Her eyes drifted down to the neckline of your shirt before snapping up again. Superimposed over the top was that picture of you.

“Didn’t eat anything enjoyable?”

Her heart thumped loudly in her ears.

“Alright,” she said, “clearly you think you know something.”

“Blake, we matched on Tinder,” you said, laughing, “I do know something about you now.”

“And what do you think you know?” she asked, refusing to let her shock show through. She really had thought you wouldn’t realise.

“That you like girls.”

Your grin was cheeky as hell and it made her want to kiss you until she wiped it off your face. She could turn you breathless so easily. She had to shut those thoughts down or she’d act on them. Turning away was necessary, or you’d see exactly how thin her control was. She did not want to give you that power over her.

Because, if she was being honest with herself, her attraction towards you had started before she’d seen you on Tinder. It had started before her divorce. It had started from almost the first moment she’d laid eyes on you. You’d smiled at her and in that moment she’d known you would be dangerous for her.

“That wasn’t a secret,” she replied, feeling her shoulders tense.

“And I know something else,” you said.

Her eyes flicked up then away from you.

“And what’s that?”

“You’re looking for a good fuck.”

She sputtered but you were barely containing your amusement.

“Clearly it’s something you’re looking for,” she shot back, not confirming it.

“Yup,” you said, no shame in your voice, “I’m not going to pretend like I’m not. I need a good fuck.”

You were going to be the end of her. If you kept saying things like that it was going to lead her down a dangerous path.

She did her best to ignore you for the rest of the day but you weren’t making it easy. She began to notice things she hadn’t before, like how your tongue would tap against your top lip when you concentrated or the noise you made at the first sip of a new cup of coffee. And always, that picture of you was in her mind, just a thought away.

Returning home at the end of the day was a relief, if only to get away from you. You with your knowing eyes, and your tongue, and your stupidly sexy photo on the internet for strangers to look at. You who so easily engaged in casual sex with strangers from an app when she was right there.

Tuesday was worse.

She caught you on your way into the gym that morning, figure on full display in tight clothing. And by caught she meant you’d run right into her, and her hands had landed on your bare waist while she kept you from falling backwards. She had to physically stop herself from focusing on your bare stomach, images of her lips trailing down filling her head.

“Sorry about that,” you said, a little self conscious chuckle passing from between your lips, “just need to work off all this sexual frustration. Unless you can think of an alternative?”

You shot her a wink. Her hands left your waist so quickly it was as if she’d just gotten burnt. She was being good. Sleeping with coworkers was never a good idea but by god you were testing her.

“Blake,” you called when she was already down the hallway. She turned, finding you grinning cheekily at her, “was it the gym selfie that made you swipe right?”

It hadn’t not been that selfie showing off your body and your muscles in the mirror.

She shook her head, continuing on her way. Your laughter followed her the entire way back to her desk.

When you returned, strands of hair stuck to your neck, still wet from the shower you must have taken. The thought of you having been naked in the building somewhere, hot in the shower, steam curling around your slick body, it was making her feel like she was losing her mind. She wanted to lick the water droplets from your neck.

“I was thinking about you in the shower,” you said, breaking her from of her thoughts.

“Oh?” She didn’t know what to think about that.

“About a specific picture of you,” you said, “god you looked so hot in it.”

“I did?” She had no idea what you were talking about.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” you said, eyes flicking over her face, “very professor of you. I bet all your students have crushes on you.”

She laughed but the look you were giving her was rather heated and she wasn’t sure it was a joke anymore.

“I would have definitely had a crush on you if you were my professor,” you said, “especially in those glasses.”

“I only need them to read,” she said, “I don’t wear them all the time.”

“You should,” you replied, “it led to a rather nice shower.”

“What led to a nice shower?” Penelope asked, startling Alex. She hadn’t even heard her approach.

“The water pressure here,” you said, not even skipping a beat, “I don’t know how it’s so good here. Way better than in my apartment.”

“Derek has said the water pressure here is weak,” she said, looking confused.

“Yeah, that’s how bad it is at my place,” you laughed.

“Well if you ever need a good shower, my bathroom is always open,” Penelope said, offering you a wide grin.

“Blake was just offering to share her shower too,” you said.

Alex pressed her lips together. The glint in your eye let her know you knew exactly what you were saying. You were playing with her. It shouldn’t have made her heart skip a beat but she was left feeling a little breathless.

While waiting for coffee to brew in the kitchen, she watched you saunter up to her, that same curl of your lips. You lent your hip against the counter, just beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of your body.

“So how come we’ve never seen your glasses before?” you asked, “you read here all the time.”

“I don’t like wearing them in public,” she said, tucking some hair behind her ear, not looking at you.

“Why not? They really suit you,” you said, gently nudging her.

“Yes, I know, you think I’m hot in them,” she said.

“Alex, you’re hot all the time,” you said, “but if you need them you should wear them. Can’t have those pretty eyes being strained.”

When she turned to look at you, you were close enough to see the faint spattering of freckles over your nose. She wanted to trace over them with her fingertip, connect them like a constellation over your skin. You were so beautiful. She had to keep reminding herself you were not hers and she couldn’t have you.

She didn’t even notice you taking the mug from her hands, pouring in the freshly brewed coffee. You took her hand, curling her fingers around the warm ceramic.

“There you go, gorgeous.” Your lips were soft against her cheek before you slipped away.

That moment stuck with her for the rest of the day. The feel of your lips on her skin followed her home. The view of you on your way to the gym. The implication of you in the shower with thoughts of her in your mind. It was beginning to feel like she was being toyed with. Like you were trying to push her buttons.

You were succeeding.

She did her best to gird her loins for Wednesday. Then you walked in wearing a tight skirt, showing off the body she’d been catching glimpses of all week. You shot her a smile as you sat at your desk, one leg crossing over the other. Her mouth grew dry at the picture you were painting before her.

“So, had any interesting matches?” you asked, “beautiful woman like you must be getting plenty.”

“Matches?” she managed to say.

“On Tinder,” you said, “I can’t be the only one. You’re such a catch and your profile… who knew you had that within you, Doctor Blake.”

“I deleted it off my phone,” she said, “that was just a failed experiment.”

“So you’re not looking for some fun?” It was easy to focus on the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“I suppose not,” she replied.

“That’s too bad,” you said, eyes sweeping over her, “I was ready to put up my hand and volunteer. But maybe you couldn’t handle me.”

“I’ve handled worse than you,” slipped from her lips. Your look of delighted surprise was worth the embarrassment she felt at saying that out loud to you.

“Doctor Blake,” you feigned scandal, “I like this side of you.”

“Oi, you coming?”

You glanced over your shoulder. Morgan was holding the door open, staring straight at you. You shot a wink at Alex before joining Morgan, the sway of your hips entirely too tempting for her. Having you in meetings all day was a relief. At the very least it kept her from staring at your legs all day.

“I like when you tie your hair up.”

It was close to the end of the day and she hadn’t heard you return. Now, bent over, one hand on the back of her chair, the other resting on the desk beside her, you surrounded her. You were talking into her ear, a murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. Turning her head, she found her nose brushing against yours. Your lips turned up in a smile.

“You’ve got such a lovely neck,” you continued, “I like seeing it on full display. It’s like it’s begging to be kissed.”

She wasn’t sure she had an appropriate answer to that.

“You had this wonderful picture of it on your profile,” you said when her silence continued, “your head was thrown back, and your hand was resting right here.”

Your pointer finger traced across the front of her throat, just above her collarbone. She liked the feeling of you touching her skin too much.

“That’s what really got my attention when your profile came up. I might have screenshot it so I could look at it later, in case you unmatched with me. But you never did. Should I be taking that as a sign?”

“I told you, I deleted the app,” she replied, doing anything to end the conversation. She didn’t need those thoughts in her head. You were dangerous.

“Alex, do you even understand how the app works?” you asked, the seductive note turning to humour.

“Of course,” she sniffed.

“So you know your profile is still live and if I opened it on my phone right now you’d be there in my matches still?” You were really grinning at her now.

Your arms were keeping her caged at her desk and she felt frozen under the look you were giving her. She hated to admit just how much she liked it.

“I hope you keep wearing your hair up like this,” you finally murmured, your eyes dipping down, tracing the column of her neck.

The cold that rushed in at your retreat felt like a physical slap. She blinked, having to work at steadying herself. Her heart was racing and there was a throbbing between her legs, and still she could smell your perfume lingering. She packed up quickly and left, going home, a place you had never once invaded. A place free from you.

Thursday felt it should have been safe. At Georgetown all day, there was little chance of seeing you. She could sink into teaching without worrying about you popping up, saying things that made her want to throw you against a wall and show you exactly who you belonged to.

She’d redownloaded Tinder onto her phone the night before. Ignoring all the other matches that had come through, she’d flicked back to yours, eyes scanning over your profile. It was still public, still there for anyone to see. That picture of you in the lingerie had stared up at her for so long she felt like you were watching her that night. And rather than lighting a fire low in her stomach it had lit a fire that made her want to stop anyone from seeing this picture of you again.

She had to admit to herself that she wanted to be the only one seeing you like that.

You’d actually messaged her on the app. She hadn’t noticed that before but the messages from the really early hours of Saturday morning had stared up at her.

Fancy meeting you here, Blake

Looking for someone to help you unwind?

Just know I’m more than happy to offer my services

Especially if you’re bringing that authoritative attitude with you

Trying to read your tone over messaging was difficult. She couldn’t tell if you were being playful or serious about your offer. But you were being unrelenting with your flirting since that night and it was driving her wild.

It was such a bad idea. She knew that. Logically, she knew that. But by god she wanted you with every fibre of her being.

In her final lecture of the day her eyes alighted on the person sitting in the far back corner. You were there, staring down at her, gaze surprisingly heated for a lecture on linguistics. She paused, just for a moment, not noticeable for anyone but a profiler, and the smirk on your face let her know she’d been caught.

Your hands were in your pockets when you sauntered down the steps to her, looking perfectly at ease. She lent against the desk, arms crossed over her chest, watching you. There was something so enjoyable about watching you walk towards her, focused solely on her.

“Aren’t you meant to be at the office?” she asked when you reached her.

“I thought I’d leave early, come see exactly how brilliant Professor Blake is,” you said, “and I have to say, I think my mind has been blown.”

“Learnt something?” she asked.

You nodded.

“Do you want to find out what I learned?” you asked.

“I do love feedback,” she replied.

You took a step forward, close enough to make the entire conversation feel more intimate than it should.

“I learned that you’re the perfect person for dirty talk,” you said, looking up at her from under lowered lashes, “the vocabulary, your voice, the way you express things.”

Your fingers brushed against the back of her hand.

“I bet you could make me cum with nothing but your voice.”

She clenched her fingers at her side, stopping herself from reaching out to you. You were really testing her.

“I could do with a coffee,” she said, not acknowledging what you had said.

“Planning on staying up late tonight?” You were following her.

“Only if we have a case you’re not telling me about,” she replied.

“Is there anything I don’t tell you?” you asked.

“I’m sure you have plenty of secrets.” Her eyes swept over your body and she saw the way your cheeks seemed to heat under her gaze.

The way you followed her was gratifying, making her feel as if she was the one in control again. She needed that, if she was going to be dealing with you and your smart mouth for the rest of the afternoon.

“You’re a really good teacher, Alex,” you said once you were waiting for your coffees at the stand in the quad. She liked her name on your tongue. She hadn’t realised how much until it came with the soft smile on your face when you looked at her.

“You’ve only sat in on one lesson,” she laughed, trying to brush it off.

“Alex.” You sounded so soft, “you’re brilliant. I think every single one of your students knows that. I know that.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet.

It astonished her that you could so easily heat her up and then turn her into emotional goo within the space of a few minutes. It was quite addictive, the way you made her feel, both taken care of and like an object of desire. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel that way.

Your shoulder bumped against hers as she showed you around the university campus. It was friendly, it was nice. She felt comfortable around you. And the way your face lit up when she pointed something out to you or told you something you enjoyed had her heart beating double time. It was easy to imagine what it would be like to share more of her life with you.

“I think Reid doesn’t think I know how to play chess,” you said on the walk back to her office.

“Why would he think that?” she asked, bemused at the change of topic.

“I always refuse to play with him,” you said, “he’s like a super genius. He’s obviously going to win. I’d rather play something that doesn’t require such big brains to be any good at.”

“So you wouldn’t play with me?”

“I’ll play something with you,” you replied, “how about Twister? I’m very flexible.”

“I’m sure you are,” she hummed, holding open her office door for you, refusing to think about all the positions she could put you in.

You ducked inside, looking over the entire space. She chose to watch you instead. Your face lit up when you saw the plant sitting in the window. It had been a gift from Garcia after seeing how lifeless the office was. Which also explained the fluffy light up pen sitting beside her keyboard. Your fingertips softly stroked along a leaf and it was so easy to imagine that touch on her own skin.

“You don’t have a lot of personal stuff in here, do you?” you said, catching her watching you.

“It’s a work place,” she said, “not my home.”

“So if I want to find out all your dirty secrets I have to receive an invitation to your house,” you said, finger trailing over the top of her desk. She closed the door right as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“You think I have dirty secrets?” she asked.

“I think you’re not nearly so reserved as you pretend to be,” you said, “you certainly suggested otherwise on Tinder.”

“You really enjoyed finding me on there, didn’t you?” she said, a wry curl to her lips.

“I can appreciate a beautiful woman with the best of them,” you replied, “and I could certainly show you my appreciation.”

Your eyes dragged down her body, lingering in places that made it feel as if fire was running through her veins. She took a step towards you and you pushed yourself onto her desk, sitting with your legs spread perfectly for her to slot between them. She wondered what you’d sound like as she fucked you over her desk. Like every dirty thought she’d ever had, most likely.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it until yours chimed. Pulling it out of her pocket she looked down, sighing. Still, the relief coursed through her. The interruption had come before she could do something she knew she shouldn’t.

“We have a case,” she said.

“Of course we do.” You sounded frustrated.

Luckily for everyone involved, the case was located in DC so there was no sleeping in a hotel. Alex, for all her faults, disliked hotels, much preferring her own bed and her own space, private and secluded.

Friday morning you showed up bright and early, sitting in her chair when she arrived. You didn’t get up at her approach, grinning up at her instead.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, looking down at you.

“You can, actually,” you said, almost bouncing in your seat, “I need your opinion on something.”

“Alright.”

She couldn’t decode the expression on your face but it made her feel as if she was about to regret agreeing to help you.

“Okay, so, do you think I should put this picture on my profile?”

You held your phone up to her. On it, shown in clear quality, was you, kneeling on a bed, in a pretty blue lingerie set. You were looking up at the camera from under lowered lashes, lips painted a bright red. Your hands were behind your back, ropes crossing over your body, looking so pretty on your skin.

Alex found herself staring, unable to tear her eyes away. She’d had no idea you were capable of something like that, and now you seemed to want to advertise it. People would see this. Strangers. People who were not her.

“I was thinking of switching out the other one with it,” you were saying, “you know which one I mean. But I’m not sure if that would be too much, you know? Like, maybe this is an after a few messages type picture.”

She finally looked away, finding you looking up at her with such expectation on your face. It dropped into confusion when you saw the expression on her face.

“What? Don’t you like it?” you asked.

“It’s rather suggestive,” she managed to get out.

“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point,” you said, “I mean, you have that sexy selfie for the same reason, right?”

“Which sexy selfie?” she asked, not able to remember taking any particularly sexual photo.

“All of them,” you replied

She felt her cheeks heat from your words before her eyes darted down to the photo again. She could still picture the other one, the one that had gotten her into all of this trouble to begin with. The photo that still managed to make her press her thighs together. This was the next level to that. She was never going to recover from seeing you like that.

“You know, I can just send it to you if you want to keep looking at it,” you said.

Her eyes snapped to you.

“Maybe you should,” was her reply.

Your face lit up, shocked at her words but appearing pleasantly so. She watched you navigate through the phone, her own vibrating a moment later. Knowing that picture was just a click away on her phone made her skin feel hot.

The distraction of the case helped cool her down again. The after image of the picture lingered only as long as her ride to the morgue. Even she had limits to her libido and dead bodies killed it.

Your smiling face greeted her when she got back and she was reminded of exactly how enticing you could look. Your hand reached for her, dragging her to listen in as Morgan interviewed a suspect, standing close to her as you watched through the glass. It was easy to lean in to you as she watched. Your fingers closed around her wrist and you gaped.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I know where she is.”

You were looking up at her with such a look of open surprise. Like you couldn’t believe you’d figured it out. The feeling in her heart was so fond.

“Alright, let’s go get her.”

Her hand on the small of your back helped guide you from the room, rushing you towards Hotch. Standing like that in front of him, feeling like a team, all her trust was in you. And that was such a wonderful feeling.

The case wrapped pretty soon after that. She found you sitting at your desk later that night, staring off into space. With her knuckle, she rapped on your desk, your startled gaze meeting hers. The smile your lips settled into was so bright.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked.

“Would you believe I was looking for you?”

“Not even for a moment,” you laughed.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” she said, your eyes snapping back to her, “I thought you might have found someone to spend the night with.”

“Now there’s an idea,” you said, your smile growing cheeky.

“No it’s not,” she growled, just the thought of it making her lose the little amount of control she’d been clinging to. It was time to admit to herself that she didn’t want anyone else touching you.

“It’s not?” Your eyes widened.

She lent forward until she was in your personal space. It was addictive, the way you were looking at her, the way you seemed to be holding your breath. Her eyes dipped down to your lips, only able to hold herself back for so long. She needed you.

“If you’re spending the night with anyone, it’s going to be me.”

Your eyes darkened and the uptick of your lips was enough to have her grasping your wrist. She tugged you to your feet, drawing you close enough until your breath mingled together.

“Grab your things, sweetheart,” she said, “we’re going.”

“The only person who can tell me what to do is the person I’m sharing my bed with,” you said, trying to pull away from her hold.

“Then I have every right to tell you what to do, because you’re coming home with me,” she said.

“Well, alright then,” you said.

You followed her home in your car, no arguments coming from you. Alex questioned her decision right up until the moment you stepped out of your car, your hair down around your shoulders, gaze dark when it rested on her.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she said, holding out an arm to you.

You went to her without question. Her hands grasped your hips, pushing you back against the side of her car.

“If at any time you want to stop, just say so,” she said, making sure you were listening, “understood?”

“Yes, mommy” you replied.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She hadn’t realised that was something she wanted until you said it. It sounded so delicious in your voice.

She took your hand, leading you to the door. Once you were inside she let her self-control snap. With strong hands she pushed you against the door, her lips finding yours. You moaned into her mouth, fingers clutching at her, pulling her closer until there was no space between your bodies. Her hands were caging you in, keeping you pressed against the hard surface as she took her time exploring your mouth.

You whimpered when her lips began to trail down your neck, marking you as hers. She wanted no confusion. You were spoken for and no one on that stupid app was ever going to have you. You were hers.

Your fingers were in her hair and you were tugging, trying to guide her back to your lips but your skin tasted so good and she couldn’t get enough. You whined her name, practically begging her, breathing shallow, but all she could concentrate on was how much she enjoyed leaving bruises in her wake. How prettily you moaned her name. How much she wanted you.

Her hands were under your shirt, tugging it up, off, over your head. Your breasts were encased in the same pretty blue lingerie you’d been wearing in the photo she’d spent the day thinking about. She groaned into your skin, her kisses trailing down. Her hands were cupping them, her tongue tasting, and you were panting.

Your own hands were wandering, pushing under her shirt, playing with the buttons. She pushed one leg between yours, keeping you pinned, smirking when she felt you begin to roll your hips against her thigh. She pressed with it, listening to the sound of your breath stuttering in your chest.

“You make such pretty sounds for me,” she murmured.

Her fingers dipped into your bra, finding a hardening nipple. You ground down against her thigh as she let herself play with it, circling it as you arched your back towards her. She loved how responsive you were to her.

You were grinding yourself against her leg, whimpering with her lips on your neck and her hands on your breasts. She wasn’t going to stop you, wanting to watch you fall apart. She was desperate to see how desperate she could make you.

The rocking of your hips grew faster, her name falling from your lips more frequently, begging her. The thought of making you cum against her front door was appealing. She liked the thought of you being so needy you barely made it over the threshold before cumming.

And then she had a much better idea.

You were panting, pressing down harder on her thigh, fingers tightening on her. She waited, right up until the moment she knew you were going to find your release, and dropped her knee. Your gasp, equal parts mortified and devastated. You tried pulling her back, your whimper loud in her ears.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” she said, pulling out of your hold, “not when you’ve been teasing me all week like you have. You know you deserve this punishment, don’t you?”

“Yes, mommy.” You hung your head.

With a finger under your chin, she tilted your head up until you were looking at her again. She sighed, smoothing your hair back from your face, not enjoying disappointing you. Her kiss was soft, conciliatory after getting you so close then stopping. She liked the noise you made when you kissed her.

“Come on,” she said, taking your hand, “you’re going to clean up this mess you’ve been making all week.”

“I want to taste you, mommy,” you said, looking at her from under lowered lashes.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

Your steps were quick, following her up the stairs. Her hands were in your hair and her lips were on yours as she guided you through the door of her bedroom. She wasn’t sure she’d ever grow tired of the taste of you.

“Can I undress you?” you asked, fingers resting on the waistband of her trousers.

“Of course, my sweet girl.”

Your fingers stumbled over themselves to undo the buttons of her shirt. She chuckled, her smile indulgent when your cheeks heated under her touch. She shrugged the shirt off, watching you stare at her, lip caught between teeth, eyes blown wide. You lowered your head, placing kisses over her skin, hands on the small of her back pulling her forward. She sighed your name, head lolling back.

Your hands slid further up her back, unhooking her bra, pulling it off her body. You groaned at the sight of her. For a moment, that same stab of self doubt entered her. You were so young and beautiful and she was a middle aged divorcee. All of that was washed away as your lips wrapped around one nipple, lavishing your attention on it. Your hand found the other, not leaving it wanting. The heat beneath her skin was growing.

Your hand was on the waistband of her trousers, fingers brushing the vulnerable skin of her stomach. Her muscles clenched and you lent back, looking up at her.

“Is this alright?” you asked.

“More than alright,” she replied.

You pushed her trousers over her hips, holding her steady as she kicked them off. With your hands on her hips you walked her backwards until her back hit the wall. Lowering yourself to your knees, you painted such a pretty picture for her, lips swollen, eyes blown wide, and looking ready to please.

Your lips were soft against the inside of her thigh. She looked down, fingers running through your hair, finding your wide eyes looking up at her. Her breath caught. You were so heartbreakingly beautiful and you were all hers.

Your fingers hooked in her underwear, slowly pulling them down her legs. The way you were looking at her was as if you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. Your hands were soft as they skimmed up her legs, pulling one of her left legs over your shoulder. You pressed her back against the wall, your mouth finding her heat.

“Such a good girl, taking care of mommy,” she murmured, fingers tightening in your hair.

You hummed and her entire body thrummed. She watched you watching her as your mouth devoured her, watching her reaction until she was a trembling mess. Her eyes closed, head falling back against the wall behind her. Your nose was brushing over her clit, and your tongue was fucking into her, and as you angled her hips you were able to lick deeper.

You ate her like you were worshipping her, like it was the greatest joy of your life, like you were hoping to be the top of your class for your teacher. She would have been lost if you were ever a student in her class. She would have risked her job for just one taste of you.

She would risk it all for you.

Your name tasted sweet on her tongue as she came on yours. Her fingers tightened in your hair, holding you against her as she let the pleasure course through her body. You were such a good girl, so wonderful, so perfect.

Your tongue lapped at her, cleaning her up, tongue nudging her clit. Her hips jerked forward and she wondered if she should stay there, let you bring her to her high again. She was sure she could spend all day against the wall, you on your knees, worshipping her. She was already addicted to you.

You kept going, so soft and slow, as if you wanted to take your time with her. Spending time until she was a quivering mess above you, melting against you, gasping your name and your praise to the heaven.

And she let you.

You drew another orgasm from her, this time more like ice melting through her veins than going up in flames. It was easier, softer, taking its time until she felt boneless above you. Your hands caught her, slowly lowering her leg from your shoulder.

Her arousal glistened on your chin and she had never seen something so beautiful. With desperate hands, she pulled you up, until she could kiss you. The taste of herself was still on your tongue and it made her want to know what you tasted like.

Her hands were soft as she stripped your trousers from your legs, lingering over each inch of skin displayed to her. The bruises she’d left along your neck were so pretty and your lips gasping her name had never looked so inviting.

“Matching set,” she said, after dragging your slacks from your body, “was someone expecting mommy to take you home?”

“I was hoping,” you said, weight shifting from foot to foot.

“Is this what you’ve been hoping for, darling girl? Is that why you’ve been teasing me all week? Hoping to push me over the line until I reminded you who is in charge?”

You looked so pretty when you were so hopeful, like she was making your dreams come true.

“Yes,” you breathed, “yes, god, please, mommy, want you so bad.”

“Good.”

She sat, pulling your down onto her lap. Your hips shifted and she could see how much of a mess had already been made of you. The wet patch on your lingerie was gratifying. Her lips found your nipple through the insubstantial material of your bra. You didn’t seem to notice as she shifted you, legs either side of one of her thighs. She tensed, pressing up, your groan throaty and deep.

“Go on, sweet girl, since you were so desperate,” she said, looking at you with dark eyes, “get yourself off on my thigh.”

“Want you to touch me,” you whined.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You wanted this so badly, you’ll take what you’re given.”

Your hips began to rock against her thigh, and the thought of you not even getting out of your underwear before your first orgasm was heady. Your hands landed on her shoulders, steadying yourself as you ground down against her. She was sitting back, watching, doing nothing to help you beyond keeping her thigh tensed.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest thing? So lovely to watch,” she said, “let me hear you, sweet girl.”

Your head fell back, baring your body to her. The sight of you, so lost to the feeling in your body, caused by her, was making her want to know all the ways you could moan her name. Your hips were rocking faster, grinding down harder, and your fingers were digging harshly into her shoulder.

“Come on, my darling girl,” she said, “you’re doing so well.”

You made such a pleasant noise. That was something to keep in mind, your reaction to her praise. She could use that to wonderful effect.

“Look at you, so desperate to cum. Making such pretty noises. Not even naked and doing such a good job of making a mess of my thigh.” She hadn’t realised how much she’d enjoy talking dirty with you, “but I’m sure you can do even better. Show me. Show me exactly how much you want me.”

You’d lost your rhythm. Nothing but animal instinct driving your movement as you chased your high. She could watch you forever, in this moment, your desperation dripping from your body.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” she murmured.

You tensed above her, thanks tumbling from your lips. Such a jumble of words but she got the gist, your appreciation for her allowing you to cum. She liked that too. You knew exactly who was in charge and you were so pretty and so good for her.

You were panting when your head dropped forward, seeking out her lips. She kissed you, a reward for doing so well for her. You pressed yourself closer, skin to almost fully bare skin.

“You did wonderfully,” she murmured against your lips, “such a beautiful girl for me.”

“Thank you,” you said, sounding breathless.

“Lets see how much more beautiful you can be.”

It was so easy slipping the bra from your body, throwing it aside. She couldn’t get enough, her mouth on you, lavishing so much attention on your breasts. She could feel when your breathing stopped, the shaky way your chest rose and fell, the small noise that seemed to involuntarily come from you. Her tongue was on your hardened nipple, circling it, before sucking. Your hip began to grind against her again.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” she said, pushing you off her thigh, “this time I’m going to have my mouth on you.”

She pulled the panties from your body, uncaring of how rough she was being. She guided you back, until you were lying on her mattress. She took a moment, letting her eyes graze over your body. You squirmed, hands reaching for her. She batted them away.

She took a moment to leave a bruise on your inside thigh, in case the matching ones on your neck weren’t warning enough. You were hers.

The first swipe of her tongue through your folds was like finding heaven. She moaned at your taste, your thighs tightening around her head. With soft hands, she pulled your thighs over her shoulders, holding you spread for her.

And then she feasted.

She couldn’t get enough of your taste, of the feeling of you, of the noises you were making. She wanted more, ever more, greedy for everything she could take from you. She took her time, wanting to draw it out, wanting to keep you on that edge for as long as possible. Your desperation was the thing she’d been looking for for so long. It filled her with heat and gratification and desperation of her own. Knowing how much you wanted her soothed her soul. If she could keep you right there, begging her, desperate for her, needing her, then she could die happily between your thighs.

You were begging so earnestly she couldn’t help herself. She was absolutely wrapped around your little finger.

Her name sounded so beautiful on your lips as you came. It was like a drug, making her brain feel hazy. She wanted to hear it again. She couldn’t get enough of you.

Her fingers found your centre, thumb brushing over your clit. Your hips jerked away, your breath stuttering. She chuckled, pressing a kiss to the bruise blooming on your inner thigh.

“You wanted me to fuck you so desperately,” she said, drawing back to look down at you, “don’t tell me you’re about to ask me to stop now.”

“Alex.” She wasn’t sure if the tone of your voice was asking her to stop or pleading her to keep going.

Her finger sunk into you so easily. The strangled noise you made was so delicious, so wonderful. She could just drown in you.

There was no hope of taking her time this go round. Your internal muscles were already fluttering around her finger. All she wanted was to make sure the lesson about who you belonged to stuck. A second finger was added and you were so warm and so wet and when she curled her fingers you threw your head back. It was practically an invitation to sink her teeth into your skin, leaving another bruise behind.

Her lips trailed down, nipping at your collarbone, before finding the curve of your breast again. You arched into her mouth, her name like a prayer on your lips, and there was no doubt in her mind about spending her life worshipping you.

Her fingers pumped in and out of you, hard and fast, lips sucking until you were trembling beneath her. She felt your climax moments before it hit. The way you screamed her name, fingers clutching at her hard enough to hurt, made her head spin. You were so gorgeous in that moment she was ready to pledge herself to you.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, lips still brushing against your skin.

“Alex.”

You were breathless, reaching for her, trying to pull her up. You kissed her, body soft against hers, moulding to hers. You were liquid, moving into all her gaps, seeking out as much of her skin to mould against as possible.

“You were wonderful, darling,” she said, clean hand brushing through your hair.

“Really?” She loved the way you pressed closer to her.

“So good for me,” she said, lips pressing softly to your skin, “you were amazing. I could spend all day doing this with you. And that mouth of yours…”

Her fingers, still slick with your juices, ran along your bottom lip. Heat curled in your stomach when you opened your mouth, sucking them in, tongue chasing your own arousal as you cleaned it from her skin. You were watching her, clearly aiming to please.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” she said, her nose running along your jaw line, “clean you up before I make you dinner.”

“Dinner?” You sounded so hopeful.

“Only the best for you, my darling.”

You rose on shaky legs when she returned, your hand tight in hers. She held you as you stepped into the the bath she’d run, the steam curling off the top of the water. You sunk down in to it, holding out a hand to her.

“Aren’t you getting in?” you asked.

“Do you want me to?” She was surprised you were asking.

“Please.”

She slipped into the bath behind you, legs either side of your body. You lent back, head resting against her shoulder. You turned to face her, nose brushing the skin of her neck before your lips pressed there. The soft sigh that came from you was everything she’d been hoping it would be.

“I hope you know you’ll be deleting Tinder off your phone,” she said, washcloth brushing over your skin.

“Alex, I deleted my profile this morning,” you said. Her hand stilled.

“But you asked about that picture.”

“I just needed an excuse to show it to you,” you admitted, “a final push, as it were.”

It was a moment of stunned silence before a laugh burst from her chest. A smile softened the worried look on your face. She pressed her face to your temple, not able to stifle it. Your own laughter was bright, lighting her up from the inside out.

“No more sleeping with other people,” she told you, relaxing when you nodded, “and no more teasing like that unless you want punishment.”

“If this is punishment then I’ll have to do it all the time,” you replied, settling against her again.

“Oh my darling girl, this was me being nice to you,” she said.

Her fingers on your chin turned your face towards her. She kissed you, long and slow, exploring your mouth until she left your breathless.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” you said when she finally drew back, “since the moment I met you I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

“Then why were you on Tinder?” she asked.

“To work off all the sexual frustration of working with you all week,” you said.

“And now?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Now I have you to help with that,” you said, “right?”

“Right.”

Your bright smile was lost as she kissed you again. And again. And again.

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #alex blake imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

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