Disclaimer: Criminal Minds doesn't belong to me. If it did, Hotch and Reid would never stop touching each other.

Warning: Contains graphic slash. Don't like, don't read.

Plaything

"Spencer."

Reid flinches and halts, letting gravity swing the pristine white motel door shut behind him. The air is very still and it's in that stillness, the sudden race of his breath sounds very loud to him. In the very centre of the room was the bed and just at the end sat an armchair that had been pulled into place and within it sat his boss, Aaron Hotchner. He is sitting in it calmly, an icy calm that radiates from him like curls of dry-ice smoke.

"Where were you?"

Reid looks between Hotch and the door as though it was obvious and the answer would be printed on the back of the door. But it wasn't and Hotch's eyes hardened further and Reid felt his stomach become heavy with something he assumed was fear.

"I was... talking with Morgan about the case we were... just working on..." Reid says, stumbling slightly through his words, wondering if he had said too much. "We were just talking..."

"Shut up."

Reid's mouth closes so fast that his teeth clip his tongue and draw a little blood. Just a little. Barely enough to sting but he rolls the copper taste around on his tongue and across his teeth. Hotch is angry, he thinks and those words are imbued with a kind of panic they never had before. Hotch is angry with me.

"How stupid do you think I am, Spencer?"

"I don't think you are..." Reid trails off seeing Hotch's features tighten at his words.

"Come here."

Reid sighs deeply and goes to stand in front of Hotch. One look at his boss' clothes informs him of just how long he was possibly waiting. The suit jacket was gone, the tie gone, the first few buttons on his no longer crisp blue shirt undone, but it was still neatly tucked into the black trousers and the shiny leather shoes were still on his feet.

"You think I don't know what you've been doing in that room with him, alone?"

Reid can't answer this time, feeling as though his throat has closed up. Instead, he just shakes his head.

"You think I can't smell it on you?"

The thought of Hotch smelling him, reading his sins, profiling his each movement and facial spasm makes his cock stir and heat in his trousers.

"How was he, Spencer?"

"I..." stammers Reid, unable to finish as his throat dries up, making the rest of his words catch.

"How many times did he touch you?" asks Hotch firmly, his voice breaking but Reid doesn't mistake it for anything but the same rage that's been charged in the air like a lightning strike since he came in.

"Once," he stammers in reply, feeling his skin turn tight and hot. He can't see it, but he knows pink is creeping over his face and down his neck, showing the shame he feels. "Just once."

"Just once," Hotch repeats with heavy sarcasm. "Kneel, Spencer."

The order was carried through and in an oddly graceful movement, Reid fell to his knees. In a quick but soft movement Hotch took hold of Reid's chin and brought him forwards a little, their lips inches apart. He met his boss' eye and a light shiver travels down his spine, making goose bumps appear under his thin clothes. Hotch's eyes are dark and hard, the softness reserved for when they're alone gone and Reid breathes in thickly.

"How many times should it have been?"

"None," Reid whispers, wanting to look away from Hotch's eyes, but he feels frozen in place by his stare. "Aaron..."

"Tell me... who do you belong to?"

Reid's head jerks slightly in Hotch's grasp. "You."

"Then perhaps you should act like it," Hotch whispers dangerously, pushing Reid away from him gently. "Strip."

Although the push wasn't hard, Reid falls backwards but manages to recover quickly and get to his feet. But then he does hesitate, his lips quiver slightly as he looks to Hotch again but the senior profilers facial expression doesn't change. If anything, it hardens.

"Strip," Hotch repeats.

Reid recognises the tone that means he's out of leeway. Despite his anticipation of Hotch's wrath, despite the shame that burns coal-hot in his stomach, that voice thrills through him, relieving him of responsibility, of decision. He's hardly conscious of his fingers going to the top of his shirt and undoing the buttons before it falls the ground and the cold air hits his skin, making him hiss inaudibly.

In less than a minute Reid stands naked, his head softly resting against his chest as his embarrassment increases noticeably. The first smile of the night graces Hotch's face although it's dim and ambiguous. But just as quickly as it appears it vanishes as Hotch gains Reid's attention and gestures for him to come forward and kneel which was obeyed quickly.

After a moment of regard Hotch reaches out and grabs Reid's hair, his nails scraping along the scalp until he was happy with the amount he has and he pulls Reid's face up. Hotch leans in again so they're only inches apart once more and Reid's mouth opens slightly, unconscious and reflexive.

"Did he kiss you?"

"No," says Reid, shaking his head. The gesture tugs against Hotch's grip on his long hair.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," replies Reid, stronger, more insistent.

Hotch makes an indistinct, frustrated sound before jerking Reid forward a little for their lips and teeth to clash together. The kiss was fierce and hard and Reid groans as pain radiates through his gums. After a second though, it softens, changes and Hotch's tongue pushes Reid's thin lips apart, wanting access to the heated warmth of his mouth.

Hotch's other hand steadies them both on Reid's shoulder and Reid shudders, moving his lips, angling his head a little for more. Hotch grunts and then both his hands come up to cup Reid's face, forcing him wide and open until his jaw aches from the pressure.

Please, Reid begs inwardly, please, please let it end.

All at once, Hotch pushes Reid away and he falls backwards, dazed and violated. "This isn't over yet, Spencer," says Hotch firmly, the thin sun-lines around his eyes bunching tight. "You're not forgiven."

Reid only stares at him, his throat aching, his dick aching, both for different reasons. The muscle in Hotch's jaw ticks. "Go," he says, pointing to the bed beside them. "Kneel on the floor. Elbows and hands on the mattress. You know how I want you."

Reid nods and without even trying to get up, he shuffles over on his knees. When reaching the side of the bed, opposite the door, he put his forearms flat from the tips of his fingers to his elbows, spreads his legs wide and tips his hips and ass back and up. For Hotch. His breath isn't fast anymore, though his heart still thumps a little quicker than normal, little stings of blood in all his extremities.

A creak sounds through the room as Hotch gets up from the chair and leaves it where it sits and at the noise Reid feels his stomach clench. Then Hotch's hand is on the back of his neck, shoving his face down into the mattress. Reid doesn't fight. He never fights Hotch. He can't. Even if he wanted to, he would never win.

Hotch growls, whether in anger or satisfaction, Reid can't tell and he kicks Reid's legs wider apart until he is balanced on the points of his knees, hip flexors protesting. Reid breathes through the slight ache, through the demands of his sex, through his nervousness of what will happen if he disobeys and through his want as he hears the soft shush of Hotch shedding his clothes behind him. He doesn't look up even though he likes to see his boss naked. He stays as Hotch put him, malleable, open.

He feels the heat when Hotch kneels behind him. Still, he can't help the soft, shocked noise that spills from his mouth when Hotch grabs his thighs in bruising hard fingers and jerks him back some, the rug scraping rough across his knees. Hotch tilts his hips and Reid buries his face in the thick, white quilt as those same unforgiving fingers twist around and into his ass, pulling him apart.

His whole body convulses a little when Hotch leans in and inhales loudly, his face so close to Reid that he can feel it without actually being touched. Oh Jesus... Hotch is smelling him. Scenting. Reid bites his lips and fights the impulse to curl his hands into fists.

"I can smell Morgan all over you," says Hotch. There's still that razor's edge of anger underneath the conversational tone of his voice. "I can smell the stink of him on you."

Reid sucks in a deep breath and holds it.

"It doesn't matter," adds Hotch, his fingers tightening and Reid writhes a little in pain, pleasure and want. "Don't have to smell you to know you've been well-fucked. I can see it. Red little pucker staring back at me, his come oozing out of you. Was it good, Spencer? Did you like it?"

Instantly, Reid feels dizzy. He still can't say anything and he can't move. His whole self is pooled in the places where Hotch's skin meets his and it doesn't leave room for much else. He feels his ass clench, ashamed that Hotch would see him like this.

"I asked if you liked it," says Hotch again, tautly.

"Please..." Reid pants, unsure of what he's asking for.

"Is Morgan big?" Hotch continues, ignoring it. "Did it hurt? Did it ache when he fucked you? You didn't even shower." Hotch lets Reid go long enough to slap his thigh with the flat of his palm, hard enough that Reid feels the blood flee and then return. "You dirty little... You didn't even shower. You came to me dirty."

"I'm sorry..." whispers Reid.

"I don't want your pathetic apologies," hissed Hotch, slapping Reid's thigh again with his palm. "Did you want me to know? To know that someone else had you, that someone else had been inside you? "

Suddenly, Hotch is prying him apart again and then he's there, his mouth, his tongue, lapping against Reid hot and wet. Reid jerks and cries out from the unexpectedness of it on top of all the other overloaded tingles from his tense nerves, it's almost too much. Hotch knows him too well; long fingers encircle the base of his cock hard and furious to keep him from shooting right there.

"Aaron... please..." he mutters mindlessly. "Aaron..."

Hotch leans forward and grumbles something against Reid's skin that he can't hear. Something about 'dirty' and 'clean' and then his tongue is there again, pressing in and the edge of the bed cuts into Reid's hips as he writhes helplessly, stuck. And Hotch just continues to wiggle his tongue deeper, further than Reid thought was possible and at the same time he's sucking, biting and chewing his lips as Hotch takes what he wants, forcing him to accept it. His fingers hold Reid firm, a cock ring of flesh that contain all the boiling need building inside him.

"Please, Aaron..." mewls Reid, his vocabulary failing him as nothing else came to mind.

And then when Reid thinks he almost can't take it, Hotch slips one long, thick finger into him next to his still-wiggling tongue, making Reid's hips buck almost violently, his knees scraping against the rug causing pain to shoot through but it went unnoticed. And after a few slow moments, it's almost a relief when Hotch thrusts inside him with his cock.

One long slide, all the way, until Hotch's balls grind against his behind. Hotch isn't small and Reid's not used to his boss taking him like this, all at once. Hotch is usually more careful, gentle but Reid knows the reason for him not being so. Reid chokes and tries to jerk forward but Hotch's got him and he can't. He can't go anywhere. He can only open and shudder against the pleasurable vibrations.

And besides the slight pain and burning sensations on his body, it feels good; feels good to finally have the teasing stop.

Hotch isn't talking anymore. His mouth, his teeth mark and scratch messages of anger, of possession all across Reid's skin. Mine. Mine. His knees dig into Reid's thighs and he then urges Reid up onto the bed, fucking him into it, never stopping for a moment. Reid curls his legs so that his heels grind into the back of Hotch's thighs, as much a plea he's capable of making right now.

The steady, angry slap of Hotch's hips into him hurts and he knows that tomorrow there will be bruises. Hotch's cock forces him wide, all the way to the centre of him, not careful and over it all, that steady growl, rising in volume. Mine. Mine.

When Hotch's fingers release the pressure on his cock, the strokes turn rough and punishing. Reid knows it's now allowed. He comes almost instantaneously, white, wet stickiness coating his stomach, his cock and Hotch's hand. As soon as he's finished, Hotch's pulls out, leaving him feeling empty.

Reid barely has time to make a sound before in all of two seconds, Hotch turns him over onto his back, hauling his numbed and protesting legs up onto his shoulders and bending him down into a pretzel. Hotch's weight on top of him feels like the only thing holding him down and he looks up into his boss' face. Hotch's expressions are complicated and passive.

Hotch thrusts into him roughly and Reid arches his back. Hotch's fingers then push into Reid's mouth, one nail scraping over the gum. Reid suckles on instinct and the salty-bitter taste of himself floods his tongue, making him sigh before whimpering.

"Yes..." Hotch moans as the slapping sounds feels the room. "You're still incredibly tight even after the pounding Morgan gave you."

Hotch's hips then slow before he moves and nuzzles messily against Reid's neck, just below his ear. His hands slide ticklishly up Reid's sides, stretch out over his head and twine their fingers together.

"Oh, you drive me crazy," Hotch whispers barely loud enough for Reid to hear before his voice breaks on a moan and Reid feels his boss swell and pulse inside him, hot and slick.

Reid instantly closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Wasting no time, Hotch pulls himself out of Reid's body and takes the young man's long legs off his shoulder and let's them fall to his sides. He then gently places his body over Reid's, being careful not to hurt him and cups Reid's face with both hands before pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Reid's arms snake around Hotch's neck and he moans into the kiss, ignoring the heavy shaking of his legs. When the kiss breaks, their eyes met and for a moment, neither of them says a word, feeling more than happy to just stare at each other.

"Are you alright?" asks Hotch quietly, breaking the silence, stroking Reid's cheek.

The young agent nods and gives him a small but tired smile. "Yeah," he says. His voice is gruff and hoarse from disuse and the noises he made when Hotch was fucking him. He hesitates, unsure of whether making his thoughts known are a good idea.

"What is it?" Hotch prompts, moving his hands to stroke Reid's long, damp hair, because he does know Reid too well. "Tell me."

A slight smirk appears on Reid's face from the authority of Hotch's tone. "I don't mind this... role-playing game but I'm curious about something... Why does it always have to be Morgan?"

"What's wrong with Morgan?" asks Hotch, chuckling as he moved off Reid and laid straight on the bed, pulling Reid beside him and into his arms.

"Nothing," says Reid quickly, voice louder than he intends. "Nothing but it's weird looking at Morgan the next day and what if he finds out he's being used in our games?"

Another chuckle falls from Hotch's mouth and he continues to stroke Reid's hair. "The only way he's going to find out is if you tell him because I certainly won't."

The room then fills with silence; the only thing breaking it is the rhythmic breathing of both men. As Reid's eyes close, he listens and counts Hotch's heartbeat.

"Spencer... do you like doing this?"

"Doing what?" asks Reid sleepily.

"Role-playing," Hotch clarifies. "Being my plaything," he adds almost cheekily. "Do you like playing these games?"

He felt Reid shrug against him but he misses the eye roll at being called his plaything. "I don't hate it."

A full smile appears on Hotch's face. That sounded like the Reid he saw every day at work.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He then felt Reid shake his head the best he could. "No," he answers, voice slightly muffled against Hotch's chest. "I've told you many times about the beatings I suffered through when I was younger. What you're doing is nothing. Don't get me wrong, I do feel the pain but it's tolerable. I haven't forgotten our safe word either."

Hotch relaxes as Reid finishes talking. He feels more than glad that he hadn't hurt Reid. Bringing him in closer, Hotch's grip tightens and as he felt Reid fall into sleep, he kisses the top of Reid's head before closing his own eyes.