Author's Note: This is an experimental and purposeful style, thus the lack of punctuation in the beginning. I'm going for seamless flow of thoughts. Also, my first foray into Criminal Minds fanfiction!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, this didn't happen, and I make no money from it.

I couldn't believe he was acting like this when we had just slept together the night before and there he was sitting at his usual table accompanied by a plethora of jocks like himself, all letterman jackets and gelled hair further proof that it was somewhere that I did not belong with my geeky sweaters and bad teeth and I just couldn't stop thinking about last night and

His hands in my hair, breath on my neck, moaning,

I made my way passed his table with some semblance of dignity and my head held high even though I was carrying a metal tray of cafeteria food because I wouldn't let him see me upset about this again, not again because earlier had been bad enough when I tried to talk to him in the hallway, but I should have known better much better because last night had been a fluke, a onetime thing only it hadn't seemed like it at the time and

kissing hot trails down my throat, his fingers running down my sides and settling on bony hips, and it was so good, so much more than I could have imagined, and I cling to him and fist my hands in his shirt, tugging tugging tugging it over his head,

the table I ended up at was on the other side of the cafeteria and it was empty so I took a large bite of my apple and pretended he simply didn't exist, that he wasn't there and that nothing had happened that night even though it had happened and I wasn't about to get over it but

"Spencer," the way he whispered my name in the dark sent shivers throughout my body, and I pulled the shirt the rest of the way off of his frame, letting it land with a soft swooshing sound to the bedroom floor,

"Hey Spencer,"

"Yeah?" I asked breathlessly, letting him pin me back down onto the bed with strong arms and thighs smoothing my fingers up his stomach chest throat tracing his collar bone the cords in his neck feeling every inch of him that I could,

My stomach dropped when he and his friends circled my table smiling maliciously at me and then he spoke "why are you trying to talk to me?" he said it casually brown eyes flashing something I couldn't identify with his friends standing behind him, practically salivating like wolves, ready to attack, holding their breath waiting for something…

He pulled me close to his chest, stopping my kisses and his skin was so hot and I felt like I was falling and melting and his lips were soft pressed against mine, "you're beautiful," he said the words into my mouth so that I could swallow them whole, pull him in for another kiss, pull him tighter against me keep him on top of me,

I looked up at him my heart fluttering and threatening to burst right out of my chest "I saw you looking at me, too, faggot," his words were sharp, and they lodged themselves in my brain, and his friends were laughing and he was laughing and it was horrifying embarrassing painful

keep him so close that I could smell the scent of faint aftershave on his skin which was gleaming with sweat, dewy misty sticky and his shirt was off and mine was off and it felt so good to be pressed against his chest like that with our arms tangled and lips together, and I moved my hand down between us and I could feel him hard against me,

"I'm not a faggot," I whispered my voice thin and cracking and he snorted at that and his friends got an equally good kick out of it and,

I slid my fingers down his jutting hip and into his boxers and jeans and it was a tight fit and everything was so tight and in the way and I wrapped my fingers around his cock as well as I could and he moaned and gasped and let go of my lips and clutched me tighter,

it was obvious that they were egging him on now and they weren't going to leave me alone to suffer this total betrayal in peace, and this time his eyes flashed another look, something close to regret, but I didn't care, because I was so betrayed and so hurt. I hit him.

and writhed against me, on top of me, into my hand and I stroked him steadily and the sound of him panting huskily into my ear made it all somuchbetter and he leaned heavily onto me and I didn't care because he had reached out with one arm to pin mine up above our heads and lace our fingers together,

He stumbled backwards into a table and looked stunned, and so did his friends because really, who would have thought the faggot could throw a punch?

"You're the faggot," I said, voice icy. I felt like I was burning up. I felt like I would turn to nothing but ash and cinder.

and it felt so right as he slipped out of his jeans, pushing them to the floor and I could finally strip him of his boxers and he groaned again when I took that moment to wiggle out of my own boxers and jeans and then there was nothing between us and we clung to each other like we were drowning and his skin slid against mine and created a delicious friction that sent us both close to the edge,

His body was on top of mine, like it had been last night. Only this time it hurt, and he was punching me and smashing me into the tiled floor. More than just his friends were circled around us, it was the whole school watching, and he was shouting,

as I rocked against him and arched up into him, "you feel so good, Aaron," and he moaned again and wrapped his arms tightly around me, almost lovingly and reverently and thrust up harder against me and pressed his lips to mine and I was pinned and hot and hard and spread open for him on the bed, and his lips sucked small blotches onto my neck that I was sure were going to cause a problem with my mother but I didn't care,

and he hit me so hard in the face that blood spurt from my nose in a gush. I started to cry. I didn't want to fight him. He was on top of me but he was hurting me. His friends were cheering him on. A teacher was pulling us apart, pulling him off of me. A flash of regret passed through his eyes again.

"oh, oh," his voice was high pitched this time, and he thrust against me frantically and I could tell that he was going to come, and I moved with him and held him tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck and came hothothot all over my stomach, crying out my name,

"You're nothing but a faggot, Reid!" I heard him yell that at me while he was being escorted away. I was still lying on the floor. Crying and bleeding and waiting. Waiting for someone. Waiting for anyone, to please help me.

then I was coming just as hard and he bit my shoulder lightly, causing me to cry out and his tinkling laughter accompanied me on the wave of pleasure, and I was so glad that I'd come to this party, so glad that Aaron Hotchner hadn't gotten drunk and had sat with me, the only other sober guest at the party,

He needed to understand. I would never tell anyone about the party. I just wanted to see him again. But my nose was bleeding badly. I needed to get up and get to the nurses office. I needed to be away from all of these people.

and this had happened and it was amazing and wonderful and everything I had ever dreamed of, and I didn't think that anything could have possibly ruined it for me.

But he was gone now. Out of the cafeteria and so was everyone else. There was no way I could get up and go after him. Talk to him. Make him understand. Everything was ruined and I couldn't go back in time and make it right.