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forhappysake · 4 months

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Teach Me

A/N: This is my first smut and it is LONG. Sorry y'all, I love a plot. Also, not totally proofread, xoxo.

Warnings: SMUT, professor!reidxreader, implied age gap, mentions of dementia, loss of virginity, bl0wjob, protected sex, use of nicknames (good girl), sub!reader/dom!spencer if you squint

The fact that you’d managed to get into Dr. Reid’s criminology class was an absolute stroke of luck on your part. You’d stayed up until midnight, eagerly waiting for your round of registration to unlock, and you’d immediately submitted your requests and refreshed the page until you got confirmation. You were elated. You had read so much about the young doctor, only in his mid-30s, who had multiple doctorates and over a decade of FBI experience. You were fully aware that taking his class would elevate your resume, not to mention that he was quite easy on the eyes.

Of course, that last part was just the consensus around campus. He polled “hottest professor” on social media every year since he’d arrived. You stared at his professor profile on the university’s website. The picture was undoubtedly a couple of years old, with brown curls atop his head and a cleanly shaven face. However, you’d heard from lots of the older majors that he’d aged like fine wine. With that in mind, you shut your computer before crawling into bed for the night. This semester can not end fast enough, you thought.

*Seven weeks later*

Returning from Christmas break was never easy, but knowing you were going into Dr. Reid’s class made things that much easier. It was your last class of the day, from 3:00 - 4:15, and you knew you’d soak up every minute of it. Though after surviving two other earlier classes and multiple rounds of icebreakers with your new classmates, you were starting to lose your initial excitement at what Dr. Reid’s course may hold.

You walked into the lecture hall, noting an empty seat about three rows from the front. Claiming the seat as your own, you pulled out your new notebook and a red pen, scribbling the date and course number at the top of your page. You checked your watch: 2:58. You couldn’t help but tap your foot impatiently as your fellow students filtered into the room.

After a few more moments passed, the side door in the lecture hall opened, and Dr. Reid walked out in front of the room. He didn’t look up at the students, whose murmuring had gone silent the moment he entered. Instead, he turned his back to the group as he wrote his name and the course number on the whiteboard.

He turned back around, this time scanning the students in the hall before clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Reid. I’ll be your professor for this course.” He paced around for a moment before coming to a stop and leaning himself back onto the desk. He looked a bit different from his faculty picture. His brown hair had grown out, allowing you to see more of his curls. His once clean-shaven face had evolved into stubble, and the rings around his eyes looked a bit darker. However, you couldn’t argue, he had aged well.

“First thing’s first, the university requires that I take roll call for the first three weeks of the course.” You waited for him to fumble around on the computer or take up a piece of paper with all of your names on it. Surprisingly, Dr. Reid began calling out names from memory without picking up a roster. “Riley Anderson?”

“Here,” a light-haired boy in the back of the class said, waving his hand.

The back and forth of Dr. Reid calling names and students replying went on for another minute before he came to your name, “Y/N Y/L/N?”

You raised your hand and offered a small smile, “Here.” He looked up at you and smiled back. As you looked away, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, making quick work of the rest of the roll call before starting the course.

The first day’s lecture was relatively tame. Nothing too gruesome was discussed, and thankfully the young doctor didn’t make you play any more icebreaker games. Upon class dismissal, a large line of students eager to make nice with their new professor lined up at his desk. Though you had hoped to meet the doctor personally, you didn’t want to wait around after being on campus all day. You quickly gathered your books and shoved them in your backpack before walking up the stairs and leaving the lecture hall.

As with all semesters, the work began to pile on quickly as you did your best to keep up. Most of your classes began to blend together. However, Dr. Reid’s class was always your first priority. There was something about him that made you feel the urge to make him proud of your work. Maybe it was the way he’d smile thoughtfully as you asked him questions during the lecture or the time he’d made extra office hours for you when you needed help with a paper. It could have even been the morning you’d bumped into him in the campus coffee shop and he’d paid for your drink. As you pondered this, laying in bed the night before your midterm, you couldn’t help but feel a little silly. He did these things for all his students, right? You did your best to quiet your thoughts before forcing yourself to sleep the night before your exam.

The next morning, you walked through campus with a certain confidence in your step. Though you had never been a great test-taker, you were confident that you were going to do well on Dr. Reid’s midterm. He’d even been so kind as to offer you a study guide, which you had been working through over the last week. You were prepared, but as you approached the lecture hall, you could see that your classmates weren’t feeling so confident.

A young boy sat by the door, frantically scanning his handwritten notes in a last-minute attempt to memorise information. Several others followed suit.

Dr. Reid came around the corner, exams in hand. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a bright smile. “Are you ready for the exam?”

“Born ready, Doc,” you joked, following him into the lecture hall and settling into your seat. Dr. Reid passed out the exams. Just as you suspected, you finished without a hitch. You dropped the paper on his desk and he offered you a small smile as you turned and left the lecture hall.

You made your way to the library to study for your fifth and final midterm. You chose your typical spot in the corner of the room, hidden behind a large bookshelf. As you settled into study, you put your headphones in. As you dove into your reading, you became oblivious to the world around you. An hour passed, and it was only when you felt a tap on your shoulder that you were pulled from your work.

You turned to face whoever had tapped you, and you failed to hide your surprise when you were met with the dark eyes of Dr. Reid. “Oh, hey!” you said, trying to be casual as you paused your music and took your headphones off. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down at you from his standing position, offering an awkward shrug. “I’m not sure, really. I guess I just thought I might find you here.”

You furrowed your brow. “Is something wrong? Did I mess up on the exam?”

Dr. Reid shook his head, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodness, no. You did wonderful. The grade is already in, actually.” “Oh,” you mumbled, smiling a little at his compliment. “Well then, what’s up?”

He stumbled around for a second, working up the confidence to utter his next sentence. “I was wondering if you were free tonight.”

Your eyebrows raised and you felt your jaw drop a little. Was this happening? “Uh… f-for what?” you asked, trying not to get your hopes up.

He pulled his hands from his pockets, fiddling with his tie as he shook his head. “Ah, you know, this was silly of me. I should go,” he turned to turn from you, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could walk away.

“For what?” you asked again, ignoring his previous comment. You locked eyes with him, trying to read his expression.

He stood up a little straighter, your obvious interest seemingly bolstering his confidence. “I’ve been working on an article for a journal publication here at the university. I was wondering if you’d be willing to look it over for me,” he said. There was silence for a moment before he added, “I will also be cooking a new pasta recipe I found, and I would like it if you would stay for dinner after that.”

You felt a small smile creeping on your face, but you tried to contain your excitement. However, you could tell from the blush growing on his cheeks that he noticed. “I would love to do that, Dr. Reid. If you could send the address to my personal email, I would be more than happy to be there in-” you looked down at your watch, “roughly an hour.”

A smile spread over his face, “Great. I’ll do that right away.” He looked around the library for a moment before he seemed to realize where he was, snapping back to reality. “Right, well, I’d better go straighten up my place a bit. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” With that, Dr. Reid turned from you and headed for the library door. He glanced back at you once, the blush on his cheeks evident as he walked out onto the quad.

—

After Dr. Reid’s departure from the library, you quickly gathered your things and rushed to the parking lot, making quick work of the drive back to your apartment. You jumped in the shower and rinsed the day off yourself before drying off and standing in front of your closet.

You examined your clothing choices. This wasn’t a date, was it? Maybe you should go with business casual… or should you choose something a bit more scandalous? Scandalous seemed to be the winning choice. If anything, you could lie and tell him you were going out after leaving his place. He wouldn’t think anything of it, right?

You settled on a shorter black dress that had a low-cut top. It exposed the tops of your breasts in a way that wasn’t wildly distasteful but wasn’t too subtle, either. You decided to skip on the underwear for the evening, the idea of being exposed underneath your dress enough to excite you. You’d never been with a man before, and you figured tonight wouldn’t necessarily be any different. You might as well have some secret fun of your own.

Checking your watch, you realized you were running short on time. You dashed back out the door to your car. Checking your phone, you saw he’d emailed you as he promised:

From: Spencer Reid Here’s the address you asked for, along with my apartment number. I look forward to seeing you soon. -S.R.

You couldn’t help but smile as you entered the address into your car’s GPS before taking off. The fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour as you tried not to let yourself get too nervous. You entered the lobby of his apartment building, catching the elevator to the fourth floor.

“Apartment 424,” you mumbled to yourself as you stepped off and walked down the aesthetically lit hallway. The carpeted floor was pristine, and the view from the window at the end of the hallway told you that living in this building was not cheap. You shook the thoughts from your head as you reached the last apartment in the hallway, closest to the window. This is it, you thought, don’t fuck it up.

You knocked twice and stopped to listen for any motion on the inside. You swore you could hear the soft lull of classical music from behind the door, and you suddenly heard footsteps fast approaching. The dark wooden door swung open, unveiling the wild curls of Dr. Reid. “Y/N!” he said, a smile spread wide across his face, “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.” He stepped back from the door, ushering you into the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid.” You stepped inside, examining the room around you. It fit his personality wonderfully. The green paint on the walls was accented by large bookshelves and dark furniture. You smiled when you noticed the lack of a television and instead, a record player sat in front of the sofa. “You have a lovely apartment, Dr. Reid,” you whispered, in awe of the way his personality was infused into the design of the place.

He furrowed his brow at you, tucking his large hands into his pants pockets once more. He must be nervous. “I appreciate that. But please, call me Spencer.”

“Spencer,” you said, testing how the name felt in your mouth. “I can do that.” He smiled at you before gesturing to the couch, offering you a place to sit. You followed his lead, sitting on the far end of the couch as he perched in the middle. You felt him watching you closely, so you turned to look at him.

Spencer noticed that you’d caught him staring, so he cleared his throat to diffuse the awkward silence that had fallen over the room. “Here’s that piece I’ve been working on, if you’d still like to look over it.” He leafed through some files on the table before pulling out a thick stack of papers, held together by a large paperclip.

You took the article from him. “Twenty-seven pages front and back? That’s quite the article, Spencer,” you joked, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

He blushed sheepishly. “You don’t have to read it all if you don’t want to. I just thought that-”

You waved your hand, cutting him off. “Of course, I am going to read it all. I’ll get started right away if you want to go work on something else.”

“Actually, I think I’m going to start that recipe I mentioned if you’re still interested in dinner,” he rose from the couch, watching for a sign of your approval.

You looked away from the papers to smile up at him, “Certainly, thank you.”

As he walked away, you continued scanning the papers he had given you. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to review it, you could find no issues. You let out an audible sigh, which Spencer heard from the kitchen.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Oh, yes! I’m not sure why you wanted me to look over this. It’s flawless,” you said, sounding almost disappointed.

“I would take that as a compliment if you didn’t sound so let down,” he said jokingly, a nervous tinge in his voice.

You shook your head, “I feel that I wasn’t much help.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been a great help on this project. In fact, the questions you asked about the behavior of female abusers in class were what got me thinking about this in the first place.”

A blush spread over your face, “Really?”

He smiled, trying not to make it too obvious that he noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Really. You’re easily my best student. Your drive is unmatched, and your work is some of the best undergraduate writing I have ever seen. You should consider graduate school if you aren’t already.”

I shrugged at his words. “I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. We’ll see where life takes me, I reckon.” Spencer nodded before padding back to the kitchen, checking whatever he had put together in the oven. Almost on cue, a kitchen timer dinged, letting him know creation was complete.

He pulled an oven mitt onto his large hand and pulled the dish out of the oven, setting it carefully on the stovetop before he turned back to you. “If you’d like to come sit at the kitchen table, I’d be happy to serve you.” You did as he requested, picking one of the two seats set at the table. Two glasses of wine were readily poured and thick, black cloth napkins were placed at each chair. You spread the fabric over your lap, noticing the careful vines embroidered along the trim.

“Are these hand-embroidered?” you asked.

Spencer nodded, “My mother used to live with me. She enjoys doing that sort of thing. I came back one day and she’d done these floral patterns around the edges.” He held up his cloth, gently tracing his finger along the vines and flowers.

Despite your evident interest in her handiwork, you couldn’t help but wonder about his mother. “Your mother used to live with you?” you asked. “Where is she now?”

Spencer sighed as he looked down, gently laying his cloth across his lap as you had done moments before. “She stays in a nursing facility where they can give her the attention and care she needs. Between working at the university and consulting on cases for the Bureau, I wasn’t doing enough.” As he looked up at you again, you could hear the implication of his final statement: I wasn’t enough.

You reached for the hand he’d placed back on the table, gently covering it with your own. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m certain she knows how much you care for her.”

He offered you a sad smile, turning his hand up under yours and gently wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Thank you, Y/N.” Spencer trailed off, seeming to zone out for a minute as his eyes glazed over. You gently pulled your hand away from him, bringing him back to reality.

“Well, uh,” he cleared his throat, rising from the table. “We can’t have dinner without the food, how silly of me.” Spencer gently picked up the dish from the counter, setting it on the table in front of you. You examined the dish of pasta. “May I?” Spencer asked, scooping up a healthy spoonful.

“Sure, thank you,” you picked up your plate, offering it to him. He placed a large helping of food on your plate along with a piece of bread before passing it back to you. You waited for him to serve himself and get reseated before you took a bite. “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Spencer’s eyes shot up from his plate as he dropped his fork on his placemat. “What’s the matter?”

You shook your head, eyes wide in amazement. “This pasta is incredible. Where did you find this recipe?”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a small laugh of relief. “Oh, I got it from a coworker. He’s a true Italian – cooks this sort of thing all the time.”

You lifted the glass of wine he’d set out for you earlier. “Cheers to this mysterious coworker and your ability to replicate authentic Italian cuisine.”

He mirrored your movements, and your glasses gently clinked together. You locked eyes with him as you both took sips of your drinks. Something about the moment was wildly intimate and laced with flirtation.

You forced yourself to look away, examining the cloth on your lap. “So, uh,” you stuttered, “are you looking forward to the end of the semester?”

Spencer took a bite of his pasta, mulling this over for moment. “Well,” he started, “yes and no. How about you?” He looked you over. You wondered if he was trying to profile you based on his careful examination of your body language and facial expressions.

You chose to shrug, “Yes and no.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. There are some classes I’ll miss. Yours, of course.”

He smiled shyly, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love your class, but it’s really more than that,” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact as you fiddled with the hem of your dress.

He quietly rose from the table and approached your side, looking down at you carefully. “Tell me,” he whispered. He leaned down to you, putting a hand under your chin and forcing you to look at him. He placed his large hands on either side of your face, as one of his thumbs gently caressed your cheekbone. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he whispered. His dark eyes scanned your own. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong and we can forget this. We’ll never talk about this again.”

You swallowed nervously. “You’re not reading this wrong,” you answered quietly. You brought one of your hands up to cover one resting on your face.

You rose from your seat and he followed suit. He stood several inches taller than you, adding to the strange power dynamic between the two of you.

He lowered his hands, running them over your shoulders and down your arms until he slipped his hands around your hips, holding you in place in front of him as he looked at you. You could see the way he held himself back from you. He was trying to decide just how far he should go.

You sighed and reached for him. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” you whispered jokingly, hanging your arms loosely from his neck to pull him a bit closer to you. He complied, leaning over you silently as your words hung in the air between you.

“This entire situation is delicate,” he said in a serious tone. “I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Spencer,” you laughed. “I’m standing in your apartment, calling you by your first name. Your hands are wrapped around my hips. I’m hanging off your neck. Don’t you think we’ve already overstepped?”

He considered this for a second, looking around the room. “I suppose. What are you thinking?” he asked genuinely, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m thinking,” you said, pressing your body against his, “that I would love to push some more boundaries with you.”

As much as he tried to deny it, he found himself giving in to you. Spencer closed his eyes, letting the scent of your perfume flood his senses. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered.

“Tell me,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. He leaned back, allowing you full access.

“Fuck-” he murmured, “I noticed you from the beginning. You…” His words trailed off into a groan as you gently sucked on his neck. He ran a hand down your body, pressing you against him with a large hand on the small of your back. “You’re always so attentive, so eager to learn.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing to trail your lips up and down his neck. “Is there anything else you can teach me?” you whispered dangerously close to his ear.

He pulled away, placing a gentle hand around your waist, guiding you into the hallway of his apartment. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“My bedroom,” he said. His hand tightened around your waist as he reached for the door.

The two of you stumbled inside, unable to keep your hands off each other. You found yourself falling backwards on his bed as he leaned over you, catching your lips in a kiss once again. You ran your hands through his soft curls and thought of all the times you’d berated yourself for imagining this exact moment. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m not going to go easy on you,” he mumbled against your lips. You felt a tinge of anxiety. Was now the time to tell him you really had no idea what you’re doing? He ran his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and revealing your lack of underwear to him. “No underwear?” he asked, smile evident on his lips as he leaned over you, leaving your back pressing against his clothed chest.

You blushed, trying not to let on that you’d secretly been praying for this to happen all evening. Of course, Spencer already knew that. You were putty in his hands.

He lifted himself off of you, and you rolled over to face him as he stood over you. “Stand up,” he said. You did as you were told, rising in front of him. You stayed still as he circled you a moment, almost as if you were some kind of prey. Spencer found the zipper to your dress. He rested his hand on it for a moment, leaning forward to offer you a soft kiss on the cheek. You took it as his way of asking for your consent, so you nodded, to which he immediately began unzipping the back of your dress.

The black material fell from your shoulders and soon laid limply at your feet. Spencer let out a quiet moan as he turned you around to face him. You were completely bare before him. “My god, Y/N,” he mumbled.

His lips attacked yours as he pushed you back on to the bed, your dress forgotten on the floor as his hands explored your body. He placed both his hands around your breasts, squeezing them gently as he began kissing down your neck. Spencer’s descent down your body continued with the utmost purpose, as you saw him lowering himself off the bed and down on to his knees in front of you.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked nervously.

Spencer looked up from your body to meet your eyes. “I want to taste you,” he said, matter of factly.

As hot as the statement was, you couldn’t overcome the insecurity and anxiety that had seeped into your mind. In one flash, the confession fell from your lips. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Spencer stopped immediately, completely removing his gaze from your naked figure to focus on your face. He rose from his knees and sat himself on the edge of his bed. “You’ve never had sex before?” Spencer asked gently, looking you in the eyes the entire time.

You nodded, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable in front of him. “I probably should have disclosed that sooner. I’m sorry, I know it’s a major turn off,” you started to sit up, reaching for your dress on the floor. As you did, Spencer grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stop and look at him.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he said.

You furrowed your brow at him. “Really?”

He cupped your face with his hands, gently tracing the edge of your jaw with his thumbs. “I know our situation isn’t the most conventional, but if you let me, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip in anticipation. “Okay,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want you to lay back for me, and I’ll make you feel good.”

You couldn’t help but trust him as you laid back on to the bed. He dropped to his knees once more, running his hands over your thighs before pulling them apart, exposing you to him. Spencer lunged forward, licking an experimental stripe up your slit to gauge your reaction. You’d never felt anything like it before, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his movements, focusing his attention on your clit.

“Spencer,” you groaned. Your hand found its way to his mess of curls, tugging sharply. He moaned into your center, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. “I-I’m close,” you whined, continuing to hold the back of his head.

You heard him speak from between your legs, “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” Spencer dove back into your core, wrapping his lips around your clit.

A sudden intrusion caused your legs to jerk, and you realized he’d inserted a finger into you. The mixture of the wonderful pressure he was placing on your bundle of nerves and the new sensation of his finger thrusting inside you sent you over the edge. You came hard, loosing your grip on the back of his head as you did.

Spencer remained on his knees, lapping up what he could of you release before he rose to meet you on the bed. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he laid next to you.

You hummed in satisfaction, forcing yourself to open your eyes. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You couldn’t help but notice the sinful amount of clothes that were still on his body. You expressed this by tugging gently on his tie, “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Spencer chuckled. “We can fix that,” he said, rising from the bed. He made quick work of his tie, and undid the buttons on his dress shirt as you watched in awe. As Spencer shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, you took in his physique. Though thin and tall, his muscles were pronounced. You noted a few scars scattered about his figure, and wondered if you could get him to tell the stories behind them. His voice brought you out of your thoughts. “You’re staring,” he said as he slowly undid his belt.

You shrugged from your position on the bed, “I like what I see.”

He let out a quiet laugh as he discarded his belt on the floor next to the bed, the hard leather hitting the floor with a loud thunk. Spencer peeled his pants off his legs, neatly folding them and setting them on a dresser next to the door. You couldn’t help but notice the large tent in his boxers, and found yourself wondering what exactly he was hiding under there.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid off the bed and stood in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, indicating his confusion as you dropped to your knees in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he said with a tinge of humor in his voice.

“Returning the favor,” you said shyly, not wanting to meet his gaze.

A large hand came to rest gently on your head as he ran his fingers through your hair, “You don’t have to do this, you know. This is about you.”

You shook your head, finally mustering up the courage to look up at him. “I want to. I want you to teach me,” you whispered.

That statement was enough to bring an end to his objections. Spencer smiled down at you with a sigh, “Pretty girl. Go ahead.” You smiled happily at the compliment and the permission to continue. You placed a few simple kissed above the hem of his boxers before locking your fingers under the seam and pulling them down completely. Spencer assisted by stepping out of his boxers, and he stood completely bare in front of you. You stared at his figure once more, eyes wide at the sight of him. His length was intimidating, especially for someone as inexperienced as yourself. You were unsure of how to proceed.

Spencer leant down quietly and took your hand from his thigh, moving it to wrap around the base of his cock. “Now, just move your hand back and forth until you find a rhythm,” he encouraged. Like a student eager to please, you followed his instructions. After a moment he spoke again, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

You weren’t sure if it was your need to praise him or the flash of unadulterated lust you felt at that moment, but you leaned forward and slid the tip of his dick into your mouth. Spencer looked down at you through hooded eyes, the silent act urging you to continue. You opened your throat the best you could, sliding him further into your mouth until you couldn’t anymore. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and, in time with the bobs of your head, stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Y/N,” Spencer groaned from above, placing an encouraging hand on the back of your head. He held your hair tightly. “Relax, baby,” he murmured. You slowed your movements so that he could fuck your throat at his own pace. You could tell he was holding himself back for your sake, and your heart swelled at how gentle he was trying to be during such a filthy act.

You closed your eyes, becoming accustomed to the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, timing your breaths to the thrust of his hips. Suddenly, you felt the hold on the back of your head let up as Spencer pulled completely out of your mouth. “I’d love to keep doing that,” he said, out of breath, “but there are other places I’d like to finish tonight.”

You blushed at the implication of his words. He reached a hand out to you, helping you stand up from the ground and pulling you into a passionate kiss. Spencer’s tongue entered your mouth as he moaned into the kiss, hands exploring your figure as he pushed you back towards the bed. You let yourself fall, the soft mattress greeting you as Spencer continued kissing you.

He reached a hand down between the two of you, taking a hold of one of your thighs and spreading your legs open for him. Spencer pulled away from the kiss, meeting your eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” he asked.

You nodded. “I want to do this with you, Spencer.”

“You have to be vocal,” he said, continuing to look down at you. “I want you to tell me what you feel and what you need.” You agreed.

He kissed you gently once more before guiding his hand in between your legs, pushing a single finger into your opening. Spencer thrusted the digit in and out of you slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling. “Do you think you can take another one?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, “Yes.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you, the next intrusion stretching you more than the last. He worked his index and middle fingers in and out of your opening as you moaned under him.

After another minute, he pulled away from you. “You’re doing so good,” Spencer encouraged. He gave himself a couple quick strokes as he reached over to his side table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. He slid the condom over himself and positioned both your legs on either side of his body, lining himself up with your entrance. “Remember, you have to tell me what you’re feeling. Okay?”

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh with one hand as he gently rubbed his cock up and down your folds, collecting your wetness. You whimpered as Spencer pressed his tip into your entrance, body jerking inadvertantly as he continued to enter you. He peppered your collar with kisses as he continued. There was a small tinge of pain which brought tears to the corner of your eyes, but the pleasure was overriding the minor discomfort you felt. After fully entering you, he paused, allowing you to adjust.

“How does it feel?” he asked. Your eyes, which had been squeezed shut, fluttered open at his voice.

“Spencer-” you stuttered, “m-move. Please.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself back and entering you slowly once again.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groaned above you. You couldn’t respond, too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you to begin to form a reply. “I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispered, peppering your cheeks with kisses, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You moaned at his praise, and you felt yourself tightening around his cock. “You like it when I tell you how good you’re doing?” Spencer asked, a mischievous smirk rising to his lips. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N. You’re taking me so well,” he punctuated the final two words with sharp thrusts of his hips.

Between the words coming out of his mouth and the consistent movement of his hips, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You moaned, dragging your fingernails down his chest in an attempt to let him know. “Words, baby,” he encouraged.

“I-” you groaned, “I’m gonna cum.”

Spencer nodded, lifting himself up on his right arm to create some distance between you. “Hold on for me, one second.” He snaked a single hand down your torso, reaching your clit. He began drawing tight circles on your clit, causing your legs to shake as you tightened around him. Spencer leaned down to you and pressed his body against yours, “Let go, I’ve got you.”

With his permission, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back arched off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, Spencer’s name falling off your lips. Driven by the feeling of you constricting around his cock, Spencer drove one final thrust into you, pushing himself in to the hilt.

You felt an unfamiliar sensation as he finished into the condom inside of you, lips parted in a silent groan as he held himself above you, staring deep into your eyes. “Good girl,” he whispered one more time as he collapsed on top of you. You both laid there for a second in a futile attempt to catch your breath. He leaned up, placing a soft kiss on your lips before he pulled out of you, causing you to moan at the sensation. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

You heard him exit his bedroom, and the sound of water running drew your attention to the bathroom. A moment later, Spencer reentered the bedroom. “Come on, baby. Let’s get cleaned up.” It was then you became aware of the amount of sweat coating your body, as well as the wetness coating your inner thighs. You accepted his outstretched hand as he lead you to his bathroom, allowing you to sink into the bathtub before he followed suit. He climbed in behind you, allowing you to lean back against him. “How do you feel?” he asked.

You turned your head to look at him, “I feel great.” You sat in silence for a second, a smile spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head, covering your face before letting out a small giggle.

Spencer’s smile mirrored your own. “C’mon now, what is it?”

“I guess you did have a lot to teach me, Dr. Reid.” You turned to look at him, eyes meeting for the first time since entering the bathtub.

Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Believe me, there’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you asking me on a date, Doc?”

He sighed, leaning back against the bathtub. “Sure am.”

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it through dinner and get to dessert,” you said with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” he said, leaning around to look at you. He lowered his voice, “Now that I know what you taste like, you’re my favorite dessert.”

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ssaronance · 11 months

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criminal minds be like “we’re looking for a white male”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #arron hotchner #luke alvez #tara lewis #matt simmons #elle greenaway #jason gideon #kate callahan #alex blake #ashley seaver

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ketsueki-k · 18 days

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Thomas Gibson aka Hotch's selfies were so random LMAO

#criminal minds memes #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #david rossi #tara lewis #luke alvez #bau team #fbi #aj cook #matthew gray gubler #thomas gibson #paget brewster

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

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Vice.

Synopsis - Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Pairing - Luke Alvez x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. luke has a gorgeous filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1.6k

Author's Note - my baby my baby my BAAAAAABY!! I have been in love with this man for years and years and I can't believe I haven't written more for him. if you ever have a luke request, please send it to me. love him with my whole heart <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Vice - a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit. "Cigars happen to be my father's vice."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Italian food."

The entire team laughs, faces illuminated by the warm yellow lights in Rossi's backyard.

"Yeah, no shit," Tara retorts, looking pointedly at Dave. "Doesn't take a behavioural analyst to figure that one out."

"Look, you asked the question, I answered."

He reclines back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine, looking around the table.

"Okay Tara, you go. What's your vice?"

She chuckles to herself before confessing.

"Super steamy period romances."

Everyone bursts into more laughter.

"Wait, what?"

"What kind?"

She's clutching at her sides as she answers.

"All kinds! Movies, books, TV shows. If it has corsets and sex, I'm in."

Your cheeks are aching from smiling so hard. You're not sure who first raised the initial question, but it's really allowed you to get to know each other a little bit deeper.

"Okay, enough about me. Simmons, what's your vice?"

"I have six kids. I don't have time for a vice."

He sounds serious, but he's grinning as he says it.

"I think the six kids are a result of an old vice."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, several glasses of wine almost obliterating your verbal filter. Your team howl with laughter.

"No comment," Matt wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "Golfing is a safer option now. No risk of unplanned surprises."

"I had to change mine after kids, too," JJ chimes in. "I used to smoke cigarettes after bad cases, but I can't anymore. What kinda mom would I be if I lectured the boys about the dangers of nicotine, and then got caught chain smoking in the backyard?"

"A cool one," you shrug, yelping when she jokingly punches you in the arm.

"What about you, hotshot?" she asks, the whole team turning their attention to you. "What's your vice?"

You desperately avoid any eye contact, trying to play it cool. You just know Luke has that glint in his eye as he looks at you pointedly.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh, fuck," you groan, fingers threading into the dark curls of his hair.

"Shhh, honey," he murmurs, lifting his head from between your legs to look up at you. "You and I both know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught."

He dives back in, tongue gliding and flicking all the spots that make you keen. You slap one hand over your mouth, the other grappling to hold onto the leather beneath you.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts, condescension dripping from his tone. "The thrill turns you on, doesn't it, baby? The risk of getting caught only makes you hotter."

You whine against your palm, bucking your hips to urge him to keep going.

"What do you want, princesa? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

He loves this. Loves hearing you beg. Loves having you relinquish complete control and let him take care of you. Loves that he can turn you, the most independent, headstrong woman he knows, into a whining, needy mess.

"Fingers," you croak out. "Make me come, Luke, please."

He grins up at you like the cat who got the cream, self satisfied smirk never leaving his lips.

"Okay, baby," he soothes. "Since you asked so pretty."

He slides two fingers into you with embarrassing ease, crooking them in the way he knows you like.

"Oh, sweet girl, what would the team think? Huh? What do you think they'd say if they saw you like this, letting me finger fuck you in the backseat of my car in the parking garage?"

He's muttering lowly, under his breath, but you hear him clear as day. He loves to patronise you, tease you, get under your skin. In everyday life, he treats you with the utmost respect. In bed, not so much. You love it.

"Couldn't even wait until we got home. Poor baby, just had to take the edge off."

His eyes meet yours, like a magnetic force. His gaze is so dark, it has you squirming in place.

"It was the shirt," you choke out. "Fucking shirt."

"Hmm?" he hums against you, the vibrations pulling you closer to the edge.

"Your shirt," you moan as his thumb finds your clit. "Makes your arms look so, fuck, so big."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that. You can practically see his ego inflating.

"I'll let you wear it tomorrow morning, if you want. If you can still walk by then, that is."

You're right on the precipice, orgasm almost within reach. If he keeps talking to you like this, you'll be at the finish line in no time.

"Oh, I've got a better idea. Why don't I fuck you in it?"

The idea makes your head spin, sending you straight into your climax. Sharp white heat licks up your spine, curling your toes and arching your back. Your grip tightens in his hair and he groans, low and honeyed.

"That's it, baby," he's murmuring. "Ride it out. Good girl."

You finally relax, melting into the leather seats. Luke crawls from his position to lean over you, resting his body onto yours. He kisses you gently at first, then dirtier as you come back to yourself.

"My place or yours?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yours is closer."

"Mine it is."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hello? Earth to Hotshot?"

JJ nudges you playfully, grinning at you from ear to ear.

"What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," you stutter, clearing your throat. "Nothing at all."

You make the mistake of lifting your gaze from your lap. There, staring at you from across the table, is Luke Alvez. You almost wish you could slap that smug smirk off of his face.

"Come on, girl!" Tara hollers.

"Everyone has a vice," Spencer begins. "You have to. Especially in our line of work. We have to have some kind of outlet. Some sort of release."

Release. You almost choke on your wine, patting yourself on the chest.

"Yeah, no. I, uh, I like British reality TV. I guess that's mine."

The team laugh, everyone teasing you relentlessly. You risk a glance at Luke, and regret it immediately. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and chuckles, knowing look in his eye. You're petrified for a moment that he can read your mind.

"Okay then Spence. Your turn," you prompt, desperate to take the attention off yourself.

Spencer starts rambling about quantum physics, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Relief.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Yeah, this is what you needed, isn't it baby?"

You try to respond, but Luke's huge hands wrapped around your throat are making it a little difficult.

"My poor sweet girl, just needed some relief huh? You sick of being in charge all the time? You want me to take care of you?"

His tone is low and melted, the timbre of it settling into your bones. All you can do is whine and nod your head in response.

His hips repeatedly snap into yours, his body melded to you. He's completely smothering you with his weight, but you don't mind. You like the closeness.

You lean up to kiss him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He's swallowing your moans, leaning his head forward to rest against yours.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty," he groans. "You gonna come for me, mama? Give me what I want?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes. Please, baby. Please."

"Who am I to deny you when you beg so fucking sweet?"

The hand that's not around your throat snakes between your sweat slicked bodies to rub circles on your clit, throwing you over the edge.

Your back arches, hips writhing on Luke's soft cotton sheets. You're squeezing him so tight he's seeing stars.

"Oh fuck baby, oh fuck."

Luke goes boneless, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He releases his grip on your throat and wraps both arms around you, pressing you together impossibly closer.

"We get better at this every time," he chuckles.

You smack him jokingly, before bursting into laughter. Soon, the two of you are crying happy tears, revelling in the afterglow.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"I'm gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything from the kitchen?"

You stand from your seat and make your way inside, taking note of the replies.

"I'll help you," Luke says, rising to join you. Neither of you see the way everyone at the table looks at each other knowingly.

You're barely through the door when you feel him against you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, murmuring in your ear.

"I'm your vice, aren't I?"

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh.

"In your dreams, Alvez."

He nips at your neck before continuing.

"Admit it. I'm your dirty little bad habit that you just can't kick."

You turn in his arms to face him, running your fingers through his hair.

"Talk the talk all you want, Luke. You and I both know this works both ways."

Your quirk your brow at him, and he leans in and kisses you chastely.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he grins.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," you smirk back.

Outside, the team decide they'll continue to let you both lie to them for a little while longer. It's more fun for everyone that way.

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strawbeerossi · 8 months

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I’ll be 23 next Friday so let’s pretend I’m 23 rn.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #luke alvez #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #david rossi #jason gideon #elle greenaway #matt simmons #alex blake #kate callahan #tara lewis #stephen walker #the bau team

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superchlorine · 7 months

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a peaceful morning at the bau Criminal Minds - 15x09 Face Off - Deleted Scenes

#mine #criminal minds #s15e09 #criminalmindsedit #cmedit #dvd specials #spencer reid #penelope garcia #luke alvez #matthew gray gubler #kirsten vangsness #adam rodriguez #tv shows #i often find most deleted scenes pretty mediocre #but the ones for this episode are great??#i would've preferred fewer serial killer scenes in the ep and more of these tbh #technical aside: wow i learned way too much about image dithering while working on this

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confusionmeisss · 3 months

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seeing the words “directed by matthew gray gubler” on an episode of criminal minds brings forth nothing but a traumatizing experience

#ali’s thoughts & opinions 📼#criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #david rossi #emily prentiss #tara lewis #luke alvez #cat adams #directed by matthew gray gubler

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thatsadfem · 1 year

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#aaron hotchner #jason gideon #jordan todd #luke alvez #stephen walker #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #tara lewis #elle greenaway #david rossi #derek morgan #emily prentiss #alex blake #kate callahan #penelope garcia #criminal minds

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redhoodie1723 · 11 months

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even more duos!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6 part 7 part 8

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reidobsessed · 5 months

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The whole cast is sickeningly fine

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bnushtird · 3 months

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Some soft sketches of Luke and Reid

#fanart #sketch #criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #luke alvez #ralvez #artists on tumblr #art #cm fanart

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forhappysake · 4 months

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thelukesalvez · 6 months

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Luke Alvez x Reader: Concussed

Request: do you think you could do some type of situation with luke where he has to clean a cut on your forehead or something? like that cute awkward moment 😭 (i hope this makes sense)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: blood mention

A/N: Plsssss I miss him sm, enjoy!!

Every single day, you fought actual, literal bad guys for a living. The worst of the worst– the kind local police needed help handling. You drew your weapon more than you could keep track of and chased unsubs down the street at least once a month.

And yet, it was the bird feeder that did you in.

To be fair– you figured technically, it was the ladder that you were standing on in a feeble attempt to hang the bird feeder that was the real culprit. But as you sat in the grass with a bruised ass and ego, you figured the details weren’t really that important.

Once the initial shock from the whole ordeal wore off, you slowly started to stand up– emphasis on the slowly. Because it became inherently clear as soon as you tried to move that you’d been hit in the head harder than you initially thought.

“Fuck,” you hissed as soon as your fingers grazed the sensitive spot on your forehead. When you pulled your hand away, you were horrified to see the thick, crimson liquid coating your fingers. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you winced, bracing your hands on your knees while you stood the rest of the way up.

“You try to do something nice… like feed the fucking birds, and look what happens,” you muttered to the universe. “You fall on your ass and get concussed by a goddamn bird feeder.”

A concussion would definitely help explain the absurd amount of talking you were doing to absolutely nobody.

With what little dignity you had left (which was practically zero) you picked up the smashed bird feeder from the ground and trudged across the lawn towards the open garage door. After setting it down near the overflowing trash bin, you dragged your feet the rest of the way inside.

You made it about two feet before you heard a knock coming from the front door.

Frowning, you wondered who the hell would be knocking at your door at 11 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Your curiosity made you forget all about your almost-certain concussion, as you slid across the kitchen towards where the knocking continued. Because you weren’t a total idiot (bird feeder to the forehead aside) you peaked through the curtains cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of your visitor. Everything inside of you loosened the moment you laid eyes on Luke– the newest member of your team and your neighbor only four houses down (which you’d learned from a brief conversation with him only days ago).

He was dressed in a plain, gray T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his muscular calves on full display. You watched for only a moment longer, trying to control the butterflies suddenly flying rampant through your stomach. Luke had only been a part of the team for a couple weeks, but you were already learning that he had this sort of effect on you. Something about his smile– or the way he laughed, or the way he told the funniest jokes, and always knew what to say when someone was having a tough day– or the way he so obviously cared about the people you helped and was always so empathetic… Come to think about it, you adored just about everything about Luke.

Before he could catch you gawking over him through the window like an absolute lunatic, you snapped the blinds closed and made your way to the front door. As soon as you swung it open, you were faced with arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met.

“Luke, hi!” you greeted happily.

But his face went from excited to horrified to angry in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what the hell?

His beautiful, warm eyes went dark as they swept over the length of you. And that was the moment you remembered what you currently looked like–

With all the excitement of seeing Luke, you had totally forgotten that you’d fallen off a ladder and mauled by a bird feeder only moments ago.

His shock quickly turned to anger as he took a step forward, so that he was standing right in front of you. “Who did this?” he asked, his tone solid and protective. His hand hovered near your jaw but didn’t quite touch you.

“What?” you shook your head, and winced as soon as you did. “No–”

“Y/N, who did this to you?”

“No one–” you said quickly. “I mean– I did. Not on purpose–” you clarified. “I fell.”

“You fell?” he asked in disbelief, his tone softening just the slightest bit.

You nodded. “I was trying to hang the bird feeder, but the ladder slipped on the leaves on the lawn. It was stupid–”

“Jesus,” Luke winced as his fingers ghosted along the edge of your jaw. You couldn’t help the sudden, sharp inhale through your lips the second that you felt his touch graze your skin. “I could’ve helped you with that, you know. Why didn’t you ask–”

“Because I didn’t think bird suet would be the death of me today,” you admitted feebly. You hoped the dirt and blood from your fall was at least hiding the blush creeping up your neck and cheeks.

A soft chuckle escaped Luke’s lips, but the look of concern remained.

“That’s a pretty nasty cut,” he said. “Let me help you clean it up.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you waved him away. “You don’t have to do that–”

“Did you even notice that you had blood all over your collar?” he asked, nodding slightly.

You look down quickly and groan as soon as you see that your beige pullover was stained in a dark shade of crimson.

“I think you’re probably a little concussed,” he added. “At least let me make sure you’re not dealing with anything worse. I used to help the medic sometimes in the field. Plus– I brought homemade muffins.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the plastic container being raised in Luke’s other hand. “You brought baked goods?”

“Muffins– yes.”

A wave of emotions washed over you. You didn’t have the best dating history– there was the guy who kept you a secret from his entire family (wife that you had no idea about included), then there was the guy who would cancel all your dates to spend time playing video games with his friends. And how could you forget about the guy who would conveniently “forget” his wallet every time you went out.

And now here you were– standing in front of a man you’d known for only a couple of weeks and he was bringing you homemade muffins.

“I–” you stammered. “I don’t– I can’t–”

“Woah,” Luke said, taking another step forward. “Maybe you should sit down. I think you’re more concussed than we thought.”

You shook your head. “I’m not concussed. Or… I probably am. But I mean, I’m just shocked–” you admitted. “No one’s ever done something like this before.”

“You said pumpkin muffins reminded you of home– and then you said later that day that you were feeling homesick. So–” his voice trailed off. You thought you might have detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

Your eyes widened even more.

“This is making me sound way creepier than I am–” Luke stammered. “I just… I was baking anyway, and I had a can of pumpkin just lying around... I didn’t go out of my way or anything in a weird way…”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you said, meaning it. “Seriously, Luke. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to repay you.”

“How about letting me help clean that cut up?” he asked, throwing you a cheeky grin.

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Fine,” you agreed, finally stepping back to let him inside. After closing the door, you turned to find him setting the plastic container down on the counter.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.

“Uh, under the sink in the bathroom,” you said, still convinced you hadn’t processed any of this yet.

“And the bathroom is…” his voice trailed off.

“Oh–” Luke looked so damn natural standing in your kitchen, you forgot he’d never actually been here before. “Down the hall, last door on the left.”

“Got it. Be right back.” With that, Luke was taking his uncharacteristically long strides down your hall before disappearing in the bathroom.

For the first time since answering the door, you raised your hand and touched your temple. Wet liquid still coated your forehead, despite how much time had passed since the accident. Maybe it was a good thing you were agreeing to let Luke help.

He was back in an instant, holding a damp washcloth and the small first aid kit you’d ordered online months ago, but hoping to never use.

“In here,” he nodded towards the kitchen. “The lighting’s better.”

You nodded, realizing he really didn’t have to explain. You and your concussed brain would follow him just about anywhere. Your eyes really widened when he patted the counter, indicating that he wanted you to sit on it.

You didn’t even question his logic though. Instead, you swiftly slipped onto the lip of the granite counter and waited aimlessly while Luke fished around your first aid kit for what he needed. You were level with him now, your gaze trailing down the length of his thick, muscular body. You studied the lines and curves of his skin better. You noticed every crease– every laugh line, every freckle. God, was he always this beautiful?

Out of nowhere a smirk spread across his lips. “You’re staring.”

Blinking harshly, you tilted your head towards the ceiling, the bright light hitting your eyes and making you wince. “Fuck,” you grunted, dropping your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit, you okay?” he asked carefully, dropping the kit to cup your cheek carefully. You felt the pressure on your neck ease as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch.

Carefully you opened your eyes and nodded. “Yeah– just the light.”

“You’re definitely concussed,” he stated, eyes traveling from yours to the cut on your forehead. “Did you hurt anything else besides your forehead?”

“Is the gash not enough?” you asked dryly, missing the feeling of his touch the moment he moved his hand.

Luke chuckled. “Oh, the gash is plenty. Just checking, though. Here–” you felt his touch against your face again. This time, his fingers grazed along your chin, tipping it slightly. “Can you lift just a bit for me?”

You nodded and moved your head in the direction he gestured. “'Atta girl,” he said, your stomach churning at his praise. You felt him press the washcloth to your temple gently, swiping up dried blood. As he neared the actual wound, you found yourself tensing up. But when you gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt, Luke didn’t even mention it. Instead he traced his thumb up and down your jaw soothingly and whispered reassurances. “I’m sorry, I know, I know–”

“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s my own stupid fault. Too bad you didn’t show up just a few minutes earlier, you might have actually gotten to see the show.”

“So remind me again how this happened– you fell off a ladder?”

“Well, sort of,” you explained. “I was trying to hang my bird feeder– on the tall branch. But the ladder slipped on the leaves, which I’ve been meaning to rake for weeks now… and when I fell the bird feeder sort of fell too… on my head.”

You dared to steal a glance towards Luke. The second you did, you noticed him biting back a smile.

“You can laugh,” you said defeatedly. “It’s completely ridiculous. A little stupid, too.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, composing himself.

“We took down a six foot unsub last week,” you reminded him. “Yet the bird feeder is what does me in.”

“Well… when you put it that way,” Luke smirked.

“If anyone at work asks, you have to lie for me,” you pleaded. “Tell them it was something heroic.”

“I’ll tell them you saved a baby bird from a tree. Instead of letting it fall to its death, you broke the fall with your forehead.”

“That makes me sound so noble,” you laughed.

“Get ready,” Luke warned as he dabbed some alcohol on a gauze pad.

“Shit,” you muttered, trying to brace yourself, not even thinking as you moved to grip his bicep.

“Squeeze as hard as you need,” he said softly. “Ready?”

You weren’t. But you nodded anyway.

The stinging sensation ripped through you, causing an onslaught of swear words to escape your lips. You gripped Luke’s arm desperately, your fingers digging into his skin. If you weren’t completely consumed by pain, you would’ve noticed how strong his muscles felt beneath your touch.

“Almost done,” he murmured, dabbing a few more spots before finally setting down the gauze. “There. Breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes still snapped shut as you attempted to inhale and exhale.

“Good job,” he soothed. When you opened your eyes, your breath hitched when you noticed how close Luke’s face was to yours.

His jaw tensed, shadows dancing across his face, and you immediately wished you could lean forward and just kiss that look of concern right off from his lips. Your eyes lingered on them for a beat too long– because you heard Luke clear his throat and tilt his head back.

Embarrassed, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

“Last step,” he said quietly, pulling a large bandaid and some antibiotic cream from the first aid kit.

You nodded, shaking yourself out of the desire before holding your head up to give him better access to your cut. Carefully, Luke placed the cream and bandage over your cut. “There,” he murmured softly.

His hand shifted on its own accord, fingers moving to brush loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face, before traveling down the length of your jaw, chin and neck.

God, he really was beautiful.

Luke smirked. “Thanks.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

Oh, shit. Had you really said that out loud? And was that the concussion speaking or just this intense, surreal intoxication you felt for Luke?

Involuntarily, you sucked in a breath, and then you did something you knew you wouldn’t have been brave enough to do unless you really were concussed– you leaned forward and pressed your mouth against Luke’s without a second thought. It was a soft brush at first, testing to see if he wanted to pull away. When he didn't, you slid forward on the counter and wound your arms around his neck.

Luke’s other hand, the one that wasn’t cupping your face like he was afraid you’d break, landed on your hip. His fingers dug into your side as he pulled you closer to him. Your body fit against his like it was made for kissing him.

Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you twisted your fingers amongst his curls. He moaned in approval, and you smiled into the kiss– into him, and it was nearly devastating when he pulled away and didn't smile back.

And then Luke was sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and taking a step back. “You’re concussed,” he said. “I’m sorry, this can’t happen– you’re… not in the right state of mind.”

Embarrassed, you slid off from the counter and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. “I’m sorry–” you stammered. “I didn’t realize you didn’t want to–”

Before you could slip past Luke– to run or hide or whatever the hell you could think to do– he shook his head and gently placed his hand on your hip, guiding you until your back collided with the counter. “I want to,” he said clearly, lowering his forehead so that it was pressed against yours. “God knows I’ve wanted to since the day I met you.”

It took a minute for his words to find meaning in your own brain. But as soon as they did, you looked up at him hopefully, your eyes widening. “Really?”

“Fuck, yes,” he rasped, his thumb wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized was falling. “Are you kidding me? I don’t just bring pumpkin muffins to anyone… That was my attempt at making a move.”

“Instead I got clocked with a bird feeder before throwing myself at you,” you groaned. You leaned forward and rested the non-injured side of your head against Luke’s chest.

“If I didn’t think you had a pretty severe concussion, I would more than welcome you throwing yourself at me,” Luke assured you.

You scoffed. “The concussion may have given me the courage to throw myself at you, but I’ve been wanting to do it way longer.”

You felt his chuckle vibrate beneath you. “I’ll tell you what…” he began, his hand sprawling out against your back. “You still want me after you’re not concussed, and you won’t have to throw yourself at me ever again.”

A shiver ran down your spine– your body thrilled with the idea. “Deal.”

“In the meantime, how about I hangout here? Make sure no more bird feeders fall on your head.”

You smiled against his chest, unable to contain the feelings he elicited inside of you. “I’d like that,” you admitted.

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