Warnings: No shades here, except maybe in the descriptions of bruising (LOL). If you made it through the first chapter and happened to read through my other works then you know this will not be a light-hearted romp. Unless your idea of a light-hearted romp includes (in no real order): graphic language, sexual situations, violence in the context of sex, violence outside of the context of sex, breath-play, and semi-graphic descriptions of wounds/abrasions/bruises.

Spoilers: Everything before 'Lauren' is fair game.

"A negative judgment gives you more satisfaction than praise, provided it smacks of jealousy." - Jean Baudrillard

"What I needed most was to love and to be loved, eager to be caught. Happily I wrapped those painful bonds around me; and sure enough, I would be lashed with the red-hot pokers of jealousy, by suspicions and fear, by burst of anger and quarrels."-Saint Augustine

"Everybody knows that you've been faithful; give or take a night or two. Everybody knows you've been discreet, but there were so many people you just had to meet, without your clothes, and everybody knows." – Leonard Cohen's song, Everybody Knows.

JJ had it right; the case took less than seventy-two hours to unravel and had them back home, and back to the office, in good stead. Yet all that meant for Aaron Hotchner was days of watching Spencer Reid go about his day-to-day activities as if he had all but forgotten the pleas he'd made weeks before on Aaron's doorstep. It was certain, that by now, the bruises and cuts had healed. If there was healing and forgetting happening, Dr. Reid was the only one doing it.

Aaron Hotchner would look at the lithe, young man and feel nothing but jealousy at every acknowledgement; every smile that he paid to anyone within Aaron's sight set Aaron's blood boiling. He let his mind go there. With each smile and rambling fact, Aaron salved his pain by imagining Reid crying, helpless, begging as he brought the lash down on the young man that dared to laugh in his presence, with someone else.

The typical stony visage that Aaron wore around the office masked his ideas about Reid perfectly. It was not out-of-character for him to move through the office with haste and a look of serious preoccupation – what else could be expected from the BAU Unit Chief?

Aaron knew that he presided over a world-class team of observers and analyzers – profilers – and there was no way of getting under their radar for good. Though the idea that he would have done what he'd done to Reid, or that Reid would have darkened his doorway begging for such a thing, was well-beyond the realm of their analysis or imaginings.

Reid continued to make every show of disinterest and to make clear that he'd forgotten that night. Aaron had watched as Spencer had agreed to accompany Derek Morgan out with some of his Academy students. Aaron had endured a week of Derek's tales of that night; how Reid had gotten drunk and failed miserably on the dance floor, even with the prompting of a capable female companions. Spencer just ignored Derek, playing little pranks on him whenever he got the chance, to retaliate for Derek's loose lips. Their pranks had become this running gag in the office; Spencer had sabotaged Derek's radio that he took running – now it played only National Public Radio or the greatest Baroque hits. In retaliation, Derek had found a way to remove every tenth page in Spencer's new book – sending the young man into an intellectual brick wall as he tried to speed through the latest tome. As Spencer bruises faded and assumedly his cravings too, he became more extroverted and seemed to delight in the companionship of the other team members; another basketball game with Will and JJ, a Dr. Who marathon with Garcia, more drinking with Morgan and Prentiss, and even a cooking class with David Rossi.

Aaron's skin crawled with every hint of Spencer's new excursions – happy words that floated past his ears, as he donned that look of stone, and made his way through the office. He tried to excuse his fixation with the profiler logic of how Spencer's actions reflected a change in his individual perception of self and so on. No, he wasn't worried that Spencer's new found extrovert would give him away. No, he was worried that Spencer would eventually parlay that into a way of giving himself away. What if the next door he knocked on was Derek's? What if he decided that Derek Morgan understood him better, understood that deep-seated pain better than he could? With every drink, every dinner, every thoughtful laugh or sigh, was just another sign that he was losing him. Correction, that he was no longer needed. That was a one-time meeting, a fluke, an anomaly of sorts – an outlier. Spencer had been the one to sneak out, to avoid Aaron, to branch out without a single look back to the man he was leaving behind.

Night after night, Aaron returned to his empty apartment. He would never lament having the sole responsibility and care of Jack but he longed for something in between – something between Jack's cooing and coloring and Erin Strauss's bureaucratic jargon. Granted, Spencer wasn't so much a middle ground but a way to let go in a manner that he couldn't with the former options.

Days aged and so did Aaron's jealousy and they were soon called away on another case; this one was not nearly as simple as the last one that JJ had arranged. This case had turned into a two week affair, a perpetual cat-and-mouse-game exacerbated by the local jurisdiction's incompetence and rabid belligerence to cover up for the lack of resources – intellectual or otherwise. It was wrong to go there, oh so wrong, but in a way Aaron was glad for the intense distraction – for the immersion in something other than his preoccupation with ripping Reid's back to pieces again.

No, if he had Spencer to himself again, if Spencer decided to darken his doorway with pleas for physical manifestations of his internal strife, Aaron wouldn't resist, he wouldn't hold back like he had last time. Dr. Reid wanted a trial, a physical mirror of his mental turmoil, then he would get it in spades and Aaron's fingers practically itched at the thought. Though, at the moment, the idea of Spencer coming to him a second time seemed wildly unlikely. Spencer had needed those scars to move on, to watch them heal in the way that he couldn't observe his emotions scab over and knit together with scar tissue.

Aaron Hotchner was just a conduit between Dr. Spencer Reid and a better life that he felt was unattainable; a new life that had no room for Aaron in it other than the role that work had cast him in.

Spencer would not come to him again.

Besides, Dr. Reid was part of that world-class analytical team, if he thought that approaching Aaron again after this level of cool indifference would yield the kind of result he desired – no, Spencer wasn't that dense, not that oblivious.

Then again, Aaron had to remind himself, Spencer wasn't raised like that – to expect retribution even without a direct confrontation. In ways, Spencer was still the socially awkward boy that shadowed Jason Gideon around. This assumption seemed more generous than the other options that Aaron was considering, like the idea that maybe Spencer knew full well what he was doing; that Spencer had used him. Aaron let a small audible chuckle escape his lips at that thought. Spencer had used him.

Yes, Aaron that's exactly how you should look at it. You beat him to a quivering pulp and he used you. Those ideas were the very shading of a sketch artist's pencil, yielding an image of someone that they would profile and hunt - wasn't that along the same path as his father? Blaming the –

Reid wasn't - Reid isn't a victim, at least not by Aaron Hotchner's hands. Aaron was so used to pushing that thought around that it was easy to overcome with a litany of rehearsed justifications. The strongest justification being the memory of Spencer's midnight, self-motivated reach for the older man; the way that Spencer had searched for him in the dark and not let up until they were both sweat-covered and satisfied. Even the shortest moments spent on that memory left him frustrated, hungry for the younger man again, and still darkly jealous.

It wasn't until they were called across the country, to a small California town, to investigate the murder and mutilation of several migrant workers, that Aaron got his chance. Looking at the broken bodies of the young field workers should have dampened Aaron's burning jealousy, and it was true, it did help contain the fire. It couldn't have been a more inappropriate time to consider what he had in mind, and Hotch knew that too. Still, when the motor-coach hotel had come up short in rooms; the rooms were scattered across the hotel, on various and seemingly random floors, and Aaron tried to appear disappointed – and to all he remained appropriately inscrutable – but inside he was alive with the perceived opportunity.

Dr. Reid had ingratiated himself to every member of the team so the chance of finding a volunteer to share their room for the night (one night only – the manager assured them) was looking fairly good. JJ was the first to back out. Will liked Reid, enjoyed spending time with the young man, trusted him with his wife's life but, JJ said apologetically, he probably wouldn't have been too keen with them sharing a hotel bed.

"Sorry, kid." Rossi said, patting Reid firmly on the shoulder. "Old man needs his sleep and all." Without sticking around to possibly risk further negotiation, Rossi pulled up the handle on his rolling suitcase and headed for the elevator.

Hotch could feel his face darkening as he watched Prentiss and Morgan actually consider the option. Morgan? The one that Reid had actually aggressively pulled away from after he and Hotch had – yeah, after that night - were practical jokes the only thing those two were trading in? The though made Aaron want to grab Spencer by scruff of the neck like an arrant dog; though when it came time for a punishment, a rolled-up newspaper was a far kinder instrument than what he had envisioned taking to Reid's skin.

Hotch's seething thoughts must have played very plainly on his face because Morgan spoke up quickly, "Hotch doesn't seem too pleased about having you as a roommate either, Pretty Boy. Should I be worried to offer you my room?" Morgan laughed, nudging Reid who suddenly was looking rather pallid.

"It's one night," Hotch said slowly, coolly, making to scan between the three team members as he spoke. "I won't get much sleep anyway. I never do the first night on a case. Reid's more than welcome to my bed; I doubt I'll be in it tonight."

Emily took this as her cue to depart to the elevators as well. Derek smiled widely at the now ghostly pale Reid, "See, Pretty Boy, it couldn't have gone any better, you get your light on all night, and a bed to sleep in." Morgan nodded at Hotch in appreciation. "Nice, Hotch. See you in the morning – if we don't get called in earlier," Then Morgan added as an afterthought, "If you ball up a couple of socks and stuff 'em in his mouth, the snoring shouldn't get in the way of your work." Morgan let out a hearty laugh, slapped Reid on the back once jovially, before walking away.

Reid felt his stomach drop when Morgan walked to the elevator and Hotch stayed, unmoving, from their spot in the lobby. Spencer's mouth had gone drier than the dusty valley and he could feel all of the water in his body pooling on the palms of his hands. The only thing comforting about the whole situation was the assumption that Aaron put stock in things like propriety, and the general idea that this was Aaron Hotchner he was talking about not someone else. Aaron Hotchner, the by the book, borderline militaristically-rigid personality, that even restrained his affection to his wife when he was in front of the team. Yet, something else rung in Spencer's ears – by the book – where was it in 'the book' that it was ok to let a murder-suspect reap their revenge before taking them in? Where in 'the book' was the allowance for the night at Aaron's apartment? Who was he kidding, Aaron had no problem deviating from 'the book' if he could see the reasoning through it.

That was why when Hotch strode to the elevator that Reid followed; head down, stomach in knots, and a feeling of very little assurance that he wasn't walking into an evening that would leave him with plenty of things to heal.

Hotch didn't speak, his manner was brusque, but that was nothing unusual. Spencer could excuse his sharp insertion of the keycard into the lock as tired frustration, maybe even grief over the present case. Though what could Spencer use to explain away the way that Aaron walked through the door and allowed his slender fingers to release it without any regard for the man behind him?

Hotch dropped his small rolling suitcase on the fold-out luggage rack and began unpacking, without paying Spencer a single regard. Several clean, pressed shirts were hung on the hangers provided by the hotel; then several pairs of pants were added to the rungs of the same hangers; a wallet was added to the dresser; a small moleskin notebook followed it, and then more mundane items – socks, underwear, a few folded white undershirts, and several ties. And then out came something that had Reid wanting to flatten his back to the wall – a braided, black leather belt. A belt that, by the way it fell into Aaron's grasp, seemed to be made of soft, supple leather; laying loosely coiled on the dresser, it looked more like a silver-headed snake than a fashion accessory.

It was then, with his fixation on the belt, that Spencer realized that he'd been staring. Spencer had caught Aaron's attention and his dark eyes were temporarily locked on the young man. It took every piece of strength in Reid's neck to shift his head so that he was looking the older man in the eye. But, then again, Spencer mused, I'm a blinker.

Yet it was Aaron who broke the eye-contact first and continued to unpack what was left in his suitcase; a pair of handcuffs, another notebook, and a shaving kit.

Maybe it wouldn't be too late to zip up his suitcase, head down to the front desk, and have them ring up Emily Prentiss. Emily would let him stay with her. She treated Reid like a kid brother and that would be about what he needed. This disjointed hotel had cable. Maybe they could catch a few episodes of Dr. Who, re-aired on the Science Fiction channel. Spencer envisioned his new room assignment; happily sharing one of those small bottles of liquor, and then drifting to sleep as he tipsily rambled to Emily about the hazards of hotel comforters. As his overactive-mind added details to his little fantasy, his fingers must have begun to put his plan into action because he was halfway through zipping up his suitcase when he felt himself turned to face those piercingly angry eyes that he had feared and tried so hard to avoid.

"Where is the social butterfly off to now?" Coming from anyone else's mouth the sentence would almost be comical; though the barb in it, intentional or otherwise, had Dr. Spencer Reid feeling like he was back in high school. His eyes began to burn and he could feel his vocal cords quavering even before he had words for them to articulate. Hotch no longer had his hands on the younger man but Reid was held in place regardless. Aaron took a step closer, "I think we've run the course of your silent treatment, Dr. Reid," Now they were almost toe-to-toe, "Answer me."

Reid bristled as he felt the suitcase pressing into the back of his thighs; his legs trapped between the older man and the foot of the bed.

"I wasn't-" Before he could finish the half-stammered lie, a stinging impact hit the right side of his face. Reid didn't know how but he'd managed to hold his ground, turning his head at the force of Aaron's hand, as he struggled to absorb the familiar echo that began at his jaw and rattled back through his head.

"I never thought you considered me to be stupid, Dr. Reid," Aaron's use of his title sounded more like an epithet than a form of respect; Reid cringed at the words. Then the familiar feeling of those long fingers lacing through his hair and directing his head so that the older man's gaze was unavoidable. "That is what lying is at its core, isn't it? You think the one you're lying to is too dense, too oblivious, too stupid to figure it out." Aaron's needed only to step back and exert a little downward pressure to the handful of Reid's hair before the young man took the cue and sunk to his knees.

Aaron knew he shouldn't enjoy that image so much. If Hotchner paused and evaluated the scene, he could come up with a million reasons why it was wrong; it was wrong that having the young man looking up at him terrified like this, sent an electric current through him like none other. Through Reid's compliance, Aaron could assume that Reid knew what was coming. In theory, they'd have talked this kind of spontaneity over and Spencer would have offered some kind of blanket consent to things that he'd be OK with, no matter their timing. In theory, if Spencer's next words were something that implied that he didn't want to go any further, Aaron would retreat, pour him a drink, and try to bring him back to their day-to-day relationship. Ah yes, their day-to-day relationship, the almost non-existent interactions, the refusal to meet Aaron's eyes for more than a second at a time, and the overt effort to avoid him at any cost. Yes, Aaron thought, the jealousy and bitterness rising up in the back of his throat, let's not hesitate to put things back the way they were.

Aaron felt his fingers itching again and he coiled them tighter in the younger man's hair, fully expecting to hear the hair popping from Reid's tender scalp.

Spencer didn't fight him; he didn't try to pull away or to counter Hotch's hand with his own grip. Instead, Spencer brought his hands to where they'd been that night at Hotch's apartment, resting at the small of his back, held securely by invisible shackles.

Aaron paused and took in the small compliant movement, the overt sign of consent, and for the first time his face broke out in a wide and happily sinister grin. He loosened his grip slightly on Reid's hair, enough to ease a little of the pain, and then brought his free hand up to Reid's reddened cheek. "This didn't start out as a way to punish you," Reid closed his eyes momentarily when he expected Aaron's hand to pull back from its target and strike him again, "this started out as something you wanted," but the caresses continued and Reid, against his better judgment, Reid allowed himself to be lulled into a temporary sense of security, enjoying the contact.

Speaking of stupid, Reid thought ruefully, as the contact left the side of his face, moments after he'd closed his eyes, and reconnected in a painful blow that echoed in the room as much as it did in Spencer's head; Aaron's vice-like grip pressing down on either side of his head, "This time it isn't for you," Aaron leaned into his face, their lips just a breath away, "and I don't care if you get what you want."

Aaron released his grip on Reid's skull and took a step back, admiring the fearful look on the younger man's face and the consummate display of obedience. A level of obedience, Hotch mused, that Dr. Reid couldn't seem to manage in any other realm of their interactions. He looked the younger man over, pleased. Then turned his back and headed toward the dresser and to those items that Spencer had been, oh so subtly, eyeing earlier.

Hotch picked the cuffs up in one hand, the buttery-soft leather belt in the other, and walked toward Reid. Aaron looked very concernedly down at the young man, "How many shirts did you pack?"

"Three," Reid said without hesitation but flinched when Aaron tossed the belt and cuffs, past his head, and onto the foot of the bed behind him. Hotch then turned and headed back to his suitcase, his few short steps poised with a sense of purpose. He unzipped the shaving kit that lay on top of his bag and removed something that had him questioning his sanity; it had been burning a hole in his bag since the moment he'd packed it; and it had taken up a place of honor since that night with Spencer.

At first he'd hidden it, just as he had when his brother had given it to him so many years ago. The first morning that Reid had come into the office seeming happy, chatting with one of the other team members about the activity of the day. That was the first night Aaron had come home and stared into the recesses of his medicine cabinet. Aaron stared into the mirrored cabinet for long moments of intensity before withdrawing the old straight-razor. What was that legend, about staring into the mirror long enough to see the Devil? Hotch stared at his reflection, watching fascinated, and simultaneously horrified at himself, as he flicked the blade from its casing. Each happy reflection that he was privy to in the office, each moment that Spencer avoided him, he resolved to run that blade through the young man's skin.

Aaron turned from his travel case and recollections, back in the direction of Reid. Aaron took in the pleasing sight of Dr. Spencer Reid, deep in thought, head cast down to the floor, and hands still obediently clasped behind his back.

Yet there was also something infuriating about Spencer's instant obedience; he fell into the role a little too easily and that brought an entirely different wave of thoughts down upon Hotchner, which surprisingly, he had not entertained before this moment. JJ had ensured that they had taken cases that kept them close to home or would return them in a few days time; the free nights far out-numbered the members of the BAU. Yes, a television show marathon, a cooking class, a night playing Morgan's wingman, and good clean family-fun with JJ and her husband – what about the other nights? Aaron stood staring at Reid – what had he done on those nights? Was he still too fearful to hop on a train to New York or D.C. alone? Logically, the idea of Spencer haunting leather bars or sex clubs was laughably ridiculous. Yet there was still that level of doubt that gave way to a great chasm between logic and jealousy, and tonight, Aaron Hotchner was not about to try and bridge the two.

He flicked open the straight-razor and came to stand in front of Reid again. Spencer's eyes remained downcast. Aaron brought the silver blade to rest underneath Reid's chin. When the cold metal made contact with Reid's skin he unthinkingly jerked backward and fell onto his ass, his head hitting the foot of the bed as he lost his balance.

This was becoming a familiar dance; the first time, it had been Aaron's firearm that had elicited that response and still Aaron made no move to comfort or explain his next action. Aaron reached for Reid, as if he was going to bury his hand in Reid's hair. Reid jerked away but let out a small yelp of surprise when Hotch yanked him up into a straighter posture by the back of his shirt collar. Reid opened his mouth to speak but sat there stunned when Hotch thrust the razor between the taut fabric of Spencer's shirt, threading it through the small space between the shirtfront and the panel that had the buttons sewn to it. In one deft move, he brought the razor downward in the direction of Reid's belt, causing each pearly white button to pop off of Spencer's shirt, and scatter about the room.

The thought of cutting through Reid's undershirt was tempting but given their assignment he decided to spare it. Besides, watching him squirm as he removed it had the potential to be much more satisfying. Aaron grasped Reid by his upper arm and pulled him into a standing position and directed him in front of the full length mirror that hung next to the door.

"Take off your shirt." Hotch demanded, staring at the side of Reid's face so hard that he wouldn't be surprised if the young man could feel it.

Spencer's eyes fell to the floor again and he shook his head in a denial. It was if Aaron had suddenly felt the floor drop out from beneath him.

Up until then, every hit, every implement, had been planned - this was the first time it had sprung from a place of spontaneous rage. Aaron could hear every other portion of his life screaming in his ears. Aaron's head was ringing with protestation, analysis, and the general plea that he knew better than this. He knew better than to do this in anger, as a form of retaliation, as a means of punishment. Yet the simple mammalian desire to mark his territory, to sink his teeth into what belonged to him roared over all voices of reasoning. Aaron's hand was at Spencer's throat, before he could mediate the battle between his urges and his senses. His long, nimble fingers wrapped effortlessly around Spencer's throat, pressing his palm down on the soft space of Reid's neck, unrelenting, even as he felt Reid's throat spasm in fear, and the failed attempt to draw oxygen.

"Is there an order you ever will follow?" He asked, as he moved over the young man, feeling Reid's throat bucking under the pressure of his palm. He felt Reid's legs begin to tremble as he kept a steady pressure on the young man's throat, "Don't lie to me, Spencer," The words came from Aaron's mouth with an unintentional crackle of emotion, he loosened the pressure on Reid's throat enough for the young man to draw a breath and then cut off the passage once again, "What are you hiding?"

Tears sprung from the younger man's eyes and the spasms underneath Hotch's palm became more intense as he fought to draw a breath for the sob that wouldn't be allowed to escape. It was as good an admission of guilt as any other and it was all Aaron knew he'd have to force himself to relent. Yet, when Reid's face began to redden and then his lips began to lose their color, he did relent; Hotch's hand coming to Spencer's wrist and catching his pulse with his free hand. Reid's first breath heaved out a weak sob as tears streamed down his face, as if Aaron had ripped open a dam upon removing his hand from Reid's throat.

"What?" Hotch said angrily, catching Reid by the front of his shirt and pulling his up from his slightly doubled over position, as he cried and simultaneously tried to catch his breath. "Just tell me. Just get it over with!" He hauled Reid back in front of the mirror. Aaron was mentally preparing himself, trying to calm himself, in preparation of seeing another man's imprint on Reid's body.

"I'm losing my mind," the younger man whispered softly, barely loud enough for Aaron to hear him.

"An insanity plea," Hotch laughed without a tinge of humor, "that isn't an overused excuse for sneaking around and fucking strangers." He was just moments away – just moments – before he slammed Reid back into the door and pressed until his throat refused to fight back. He shut off every nagging instinct to profile himself, to pull himself from the burning red anger that he should have directed at plenty of other people. Those words were missing their deserving target completely but if Reid needed his scars to heal, then Aaron finally needed to lose some of his restraint to salve his wounds.

At least, that was the selfish justification that Aaron used to propel himself away from Reid and back toward the items laying on the hotel bed. Aaron snatched the soft, supple leather belt off the bed and strode back toward Spencer. Reid barely gathered enough sense together to force his hands out in front of him when Aaron pushed him, face first, toward the mirror that hung on the wall. Aaron's left hand came to Reid's own buckle and quickly unfastened it, followed by the single button, and zipper on Reid's slacks.

"I'm sure this is a familiar position," Aaron snarled in his ear as he locked eyes with Reid's reflection in the mirror. Reid's eyes were still brimming with tears even though his audible expressions of despair had ceased.

Aaron pushed himself back from Reid and took another pace backward, putting a decent distance between he and Spencer, leaving plenty of room for the belt to catch its momentum and land with a muffled slap across Reid's back. When Aaron struck Reid's clothed back again he made sure to wrap the belt around Reid's shoulder so that, by chance, it would hit the word that he had traced there many nights ago. The hit had the desired effect and Spencer let out a high-pitched yelp of pain.

If Aaron believed in that sort of thing, he would have explained their last-minute room assignment as Divine Providence. Two of the hotel bedroom walls sat at the end of the building, the one that Reid was now braced against, was shared by a storage room/supply closet of the hotel. The fourth wall, of course, ran up against the hallway which was a rarely used run of carpet that led to a window and staff restroom. When Aaron had begrudgingly accepted the room, he had a feeling that he may have been booting a member of the night crew from their sleeping quarters. The inconvenience of it all now seemed well worth it.

Aaron pulled down Reid's fitted black pants, and then moved his hand to the scruff of Reid's neck, before bringing the belt-wielding hand back and releasing the belt on the back of Spencer's thighs. Spencer's yelps of pain continued but without a hint of protestation. Aaron brought the braided belt over the back of Spencer's thighs until they were a fiery red and burning with pain. "Where did you find them?" Hotch growled out in between blows. Reid didn't answer him, he'd given up, and was resting his head on the cool mirror in front of him. Aaron brought down two quick strikes without a reprieve, ensuring that each wrapped around the side of Reid's exposed thigh, and would leave a decent welt.

"This isn't the end, Spencer." The belt cracked again on the younger man's raw skin, "you'll be behind a desk all day tomorrow and I want your ass to be just as striped and colorful as those maps you'll be staring at." Two more successive hits. Aaron's enjoyment of Spencer's pain was short-lived every time he caught sight of that white undershirt that was now damp with perspiration. Aaron struck Reid; one, two, three, five, ten…Reid was losing count as they came in painfully blinding succession. Then without warning, Aaron tossed the belt into the far corner of the room and he grabbed Reid by both shoulders, pulling him back from the mirror. "I know what you've done, Spencer. Just take off the damn shirt and own up to it." Aaron knew that his request being answered would just leave him just as broken as the young man in front of him who's tears refused to cease.

"Do it!" Aaron growled, looking down at his feet and catching the location of the straight-razor.

Reid crossed his arms in front of his torso, still sobbing, and then slowly, with trembling hands, he pulled his shirt up and off of his body, dropping it to the floor with a choked sob of defeat.

Very little shocked Aaron Hotchner but he could have been knocked over with a feather with Reid's physical revelation. There were those three letters that he had cut into Reid's skin so many nights back and there they were, cut deeper, still red, as if he'd made those marks twice as deep, just days ago. Yes, it was incredibly illogical to think that Reid would seek out someone else to repeat Aaron's work. Spencer had stuck himself with that Dillaudid needle on his own, hadn't he? He wanted this to take its place, to distract him, to heal him, so why wouldn't he have taken a blade into his own hand as well?

"I'm losing my mind," The young man repeated, still refusing to look up at Aaron, certain that the Unit Chief had dropped all pretense of their game and was now conducting a quick calculation on just how costly it would be to send him packing, as soon as the jet could refuel.

The remorse that was now overwhelming Aaron had him all but ready to pick up that soft leather braid and place the buckle in Reid's hands as they switched places. Yet, looking over those deep red cuts he knew that would be the ultimate betrayal of what Reid had demonstrated.

Aaron's lack of a response had Reid's mind swimming with unfortunate outcomes for his bold and reckless gesture. He'd done everything he could to distract himself, to keep himself in check during the days and away from Aaron's doorstep at night. Being with a member of the team when he couldn't be at work was like some twisted game of Six Degrees of Aaron Hotchner. Basketball was incredibly boring and difficult to follow, the cooking class was a disaster and Reid had landed a more coherent dish on the floor than in the actual pan. Emily was just glad to distract him in any way possible after he had snapped at her during his withdrawals, maybe the verbal firestorm he'd unleashed on her had somehow clued her into his feelings more than any of the others, save for Aaron.

Aaron turned the shaking young man toward him, slowly understanding his fear. For want of a shirt, Dr. Spencer Reid was thinking he'd just lost everything; work, friends, and a...no word seemed to fit. It didn't matter how it was worded, Aaron was watching the young man mourn what he perceived to be, the loss of everything he ever had in the world. The urge to break character, to scoop Spencer up in his arms and reassure him, comfort him, was nearly impossible to ignore.

"Reid," Aaron's tone had softened but it still held that strength that practically commanded level-headedness. Aaron approached him and stretched out a hand, running his fingers over the angry red letters. Spencer couldn't make himself look at the other man, even as he took in a pained gasp when Aaron's fingers pressed firmly on each angry letter, tracing it with his thumb as his other fingers sunk into Reid's shoulder. This wasn't the time for him to say all that should hang at the end of Spencer's name, so he cleared his throat, "On your knees."

Spencer's let out a long sigh of relief as he fell, rather than softly descend, to his knees. Aaron took a moment to absorb all that has occurred in the last few moments; Reid's actions have spoken volumes, or at least Aaron was content to read volumes into those three inflamed letters, freshly cut open on the young man's body. Aaron looked around the room trying to regain some understanding of what his next step should be. The straight-razor had been discarded at some point and now lay next to the kneeling Reid, the cuffs still lying on the bed, unused.

Aaron went to the bed and retrieved the handcuffs and walked back toward Reid. Hotch had plenty of time to hate himself for what he'd said and done to Reid this evening. How much of it could be excused by the scene? Would Reid forgive him all of it, chalk it all up to arousing, terrifying pain? Aaron could only be so lucky.

Spencer was still kneeling up obediently in front of the mirror, probably loathe to let any tension out of his legs and rest his bruised, welted thighs against anything.

Aaron took in Reid's appearance slowly and decided a few things would have to be removed from the younger man before he could add those cuffs to his wrists.

"Spencer," Aaron said once he was a step away from the young man. Reid looked up toward him, his eyes wide, beautiful but damp and red with tears. "Take off your shoes and socks." Reid's temporary struggle to avoid pain and to comply with Hotch's request was amusing to say the least. He eventually sunk to the floor with a yelp of pain as the coarse carpet made contact with his marred skin. Spencer's hand went to the bunched up fabric at his calves but looked up questioningly to Hotch before the older man understood and nodded his consent. Spencer removed his slacks and underwear that hung around his calves as well – leaving him completely nude.

Aaron looked him over slowly, approvingly, as he toed off his own shoes and socks. Aaron watched as Reid paused for a moment, unsure of his next move, but slowly rose to a kneeling position, his back to the mirror by the door, the front of his body facing the bed and Hotch.

Hotch kept eye contact with the young man as he loosened his tie, removed it, and then removed the white collared shirt along with it, keeping on the thin white shirt beneath it – breaking character for just a moment to neatly hang both his tie and crisp white shirt on the back of the hotel desk chair.

Aaron retrieved the cuffs from the foot of the bed and walked over to the naked young man in front of the mirror. Without a word of explanation Aaron hauled Spencer to his feet and pressed him back against the cold floor-length mirror behind him. Spencer let out a yelp of surprise as the cold made contact with his skin, his breath continued in short, nervous gasp, no doubt anticipating Aaron's next grip would be back at his throat.

"Sssh," Aaron reassured, bringing his right, cuff-free hand to Spencer's arm, rubbing his fingers gently down the smooth pale skin. "Look at me, Reid." He whispered, moving his face closer to the younger man, so close that Spencer could feel the warmth of his breath across his lips. Reid tentatively complied and as soon as his lips were level with the older man, Hotch pressed forward, catching him in a deep kiss.

It was over. Reid sighed with relief. This was it. The scene was done and now they could lapse into that sweet anomaly of a night that had occurred before Spencer had lost his nerve, and left before Hotch could awaken to the daylight and the reality of the situation.

Though the gentleness that had been there when Reid had groped for the older man in the darkness of the early morning, Aaron's sweet and tentative initiation of their union, was nowhere to be found. These kisses were deep, bruising, and left Reid struggling to regain his breath. Aaron's clothed knee pressed between Reid's legs, nudging them apart, and putting pressure on Spencer's strengthening arousal.

Spencer Reid was struggling for breath as Aaron's lips broke away only momentarily and then rejoined his. Spencer was beyond understanding the situation or trying fearfully to predict Aaron's next move. When Aaron pressed forward, bringing his body closer to Reid, practically pinning him to the wall, Spencer could feel his focus split distinctly in two. Spencer tried to keep up with Aaron's kisses, to return them in kind but never to move beyond his obedient reception of Aaron's mouth. The blood and focus that was not devoted to flushing his lips and cheeks was swiftly migrating lower. Spencer needed him closer, needed some relief, he needed a living, breathing recollection of their night together, before all of this had been buried by work and shame.

What little blood was left to operate his constantly active mind knew that his hands clutching Aaron's waist, trying to bring him closer, was a bad idea. And as soon as Spencer's finger found purchase in Aaron's belt loops his disobedience was confirmed by Aaron's low growl into the kiss. Aaron had been running his hands soothingly along Spencer's exposed body, moving back to pinch, tease, or explore different tender places on Reid's body. The caresses stopped upon Reid's transgression, the kiss breaking momentarily as Aaron looked the frightened young man in the eye.

Aaron rememberings of their night together could in no way live up the scene before him; Spencer's lips flushed red from their kisses, his cheeks an aroused and embarrassed crimson, those angry red words on Reid's shoulder that seemed to glow as Spencer's chest also took on a soft pink flush. Reid's trembling hands, that the young man couldn't seem to find a place for since Aaron had corrected his previous attempt. Aaron couldn't help it, the look of helplessness on the young man's face twisted with need and desperation – all Aaron could do was allow a wide smile to cross his face. He watched, smiling, as Reid's anxiety increased. Aaron must have been planning something and as Reid speculated on the possibilities, his breath picked up its near-hyperventilating pace and his cheeks grew even redder. Aaron watched for several seconds before taking pity on the young man and resuming contact with Spencer's increasing arousal and using his other hand to place Spencer shaking palms flatly against the cool mirror behind the young man.

Hotch continued to explore Spencer's mouth, teasing, biting, and occasionally stealing the breath from his lungs. As Aaron's fingers continued their journey over the young man's body, finding all of Reid's points that had him shaking and rigid with arousal. Aaron smiled into their kiss and Spencer's fear and restraint were overcome by his need for release. Aaron finally took a step back from Reid, who whimpered at the loss, but sighed with satisfaction when Aaron pulled him away from the mirror and back to him, resuming their kiss.

Aaron brought one hand to Reid's engraved shoulder, holding him in place, while he stepped back and to the side of the young man. When Spencer reached for him, Aaron took that opportunity to grasp Reid's wrist tightly and snap it into the metallic cuffs that Reid had all but forgotten Aaron had been holding. Aaron reach continued to Reid's back and collected the other wrist, without resistance, and locked it in the other cuff, securing Reid's hands behind his back. It felt strange to think it but in Aaron's actions Spencer felt an overwhelming sense of relief – the cuffs meant he didn't have to think about restraining himself, keeping himself in check, and using his own self-control to keep from returning Aaron's caresses and affections. Reid reminded himself that the biting leather belt had been neglected in the corner of the room, far from Aaron's reach, therefore the pain was, most assuredly, over.

Spencer let out a yelp of surprise when Aaron's very capable fingers wrapped around his throbbing and desperate erection. Aaron's grip was firm but not painfully so, and his pace was such that if he continued for much longer, Reid would find himself tumbling over the edge of what promised to be a very satisfying release. Reid whimpered as Aaron's tempo increased and his grip tightened, mingling a tinge of pain in with the intense pleasure, especially as he squeezed down on the head of Spencer's arousal forcing it thru his grip. The ever-increasing pressure mixed with the unrelenting tinge of pain had Spencer dancing on the edge, poised to tumble over it with the slightest coaxing, yet the pain never did relent and it left him frustratingly prepared to beg for his release.

That had been the key last time, Aaron wanted to hear him, wanted him to fill his mouth with something other than rambled statistics and semi-useless facts. Aaron had demanded it before and Reid was prepared to offer up his pleas even before they were demanded of him .

"Please," Spencer breathed out quietly. Aaron was close enough in front of him now that Spencer could nuzzle the older man's neck, whispering his pleas against the skin there. "Please, Sir. I'm so close." Spencer moaned to emphasize his point when Aaron's grip tightened further, making the pass of his head through the older man's fist more painful than anything else.

It was then that Aaron removed all but the ring formed by his thumb and forefinger from Spencer's aching erection. "Are you?" He whispered back, nuzzling Spencer's neck, kissing up the side to the younger man's ear. "Are you really close?" He brought the loose ring of his two fingers tentatively over the angry red skin at the tip of Spencer's erection.

"How close are you?" He stilled his fingers, amused that Spencer didn't wait for permission before attempting to thrust himself through the frustratingly loose opening. "You going to come for me?" He sunk the nails of his free hand into Spencer's hips, stilling them, then drawing the ring of his two fingers back teasingly, to only loosely surround the head. Spencer just shook and whimpered in response, too far gone to articulate anything meaningful.

Aaron's wicked smile grew broader as he brought the loose circle of his thumb and forefinger over the tip of Spencer's arousal but resisted going any further down the shaft, just focusing a feather-light touch on the excruciatingly swollen tip.

Seeing Spencer Reid at a loss for words was quite the treat, hearing the younger man grunt as he moved his face from side to side trying to find some way to push himself over the brink that Aaron happily kept him dangling upon. Aaron laughed as Reid continued to struggle, moaning when Hotch added his middle finger to the ring that he tightened and then brought down all the way to the base of Spencer's length. "Oh god," Spencer whined as he felt himself nearing his release, "Please, sir. Please let me come."

Aaron pulled the tightening loop of fingers back the way they'd come and was rewarded by another throaty whine from his companion. "Waiting can be painful," Aaron whispered as his unoccupied hand came to tangle in Reid's hair, "Feeling that desperate burn in the pit of your stomach," Hotch said, his voice low and seductive but with an edge, that if Spencer had been at all aware, would have left him weary of what was to follow. Aaron tightened the thin ring of digits and slid them slowly back down Spencer's aching length. "You can feel it, can't you Spencer?" Sliding his fingers back up Reid's arousal only to pull away and play his fingers teasing across the now aching head, "I'd go to bed with that feeling in the pit of my stomach, come into the office, watching you laugh and reminisce with the other team members, talking about time that could have been spent with me," Aaron's fingers fit back into that torturous ring and slid tightly down Spencer's length and the young man mewed with want. "I had to wait, never knowing if release from the hold you had on me would end."

Spencer didn't bother to wait for permission to speak, "Please, oh god, Aaron, please. I'm sorry. Please." Reid was beyond recognizing his transgression, especially when Aaron appeared to heed his desperate cries and wrapped the rest of his fingers firmly around Reid's arousal.

Aaron's other hand was still in Reid's hair, holding him so that he had no choice but to look at Aaron as he continued to taunt him. "It was having you right there," Aaron pumped his fist up and down the length or Spencer's arousal, driving him over the edge. Spencer let out a cry of grateful relief which was quickly choked back and replaced with a whine of disappointment when Aaron removed his hand entirely, letting the young man's erection throb and drip in mid-air, jerkily begging for some sort of contact as his orgasm began and then was stopped short. Aaron's grip on Spencer's hair became painfully tight, "It was having you there and gaining no pleasure, no satisfaction," Aaron leaned in growling the last part close to Spencer's ear, "having the sweetest feelings turn into a slow burning pain."

Reid yelped when Aaron's firm grip came into unrelenting contact with Reid's aching length. Hotch knew exactly the kind of excruciating pain Spencer must have been feeling as he stroked the young man in the way that he would have relished just moments ago. As it were, the movements were unbearable and cruelly painful. Reid tried to squirm away from him but Aaron kept him in place content to ruin any pleasure that the Reid may have gained from the contact. The unquenched desire and Spencer's youthfulness guaranteed that he could continue through, what would have been, Reid recovery period and the young man's arousal would remain firm as if he was still awaiting his release.

"Sir, please. Please stop." Spencer begged as he tried to rip himself away from the rapid pumping of Aaron's fist on his pained arousal.

Aaron just shook his head, his wicked, self-satisfied smile never ceasing.

It didn't take long before Reid's yelps of pain and struggles to evade Aaron's touch turned their tide and Spencer was trying to suppress groans of want before they could escape his mouth. Spencer's hips were no longer trying to shy away from Aaron's touch. On the contrary, he was now pushing back toward the older man trying to gain a sense of increased friction from a grip that seemed to be loosening around him yet again.

The smile left Aaron's face and his eyes narrowed as Spencer's attempt to increase his pleasure became more overt. Aaron looked into Reid's eyes, his voice taking on a timbre of clinical seriousness, "You're the one who ended up on my doorstep with all of that knowledge, what does the great scientific mind have to say about your condition, Spencer? How long will you let me do this to you?"

Reid choked and tried to buck his hips into the thin ring of fingers that Hotch now surrounded him with. "Answer me." Aaron taunted as he sped up the motion of the circle of his thumb and forefinger over the tip of Reid's arousal.

When Reid opened his mouth to comply, his voice came out laced with giddy laughter, as if he was speaking for the first time after a long bout of hard laughter, "Given my age," Reid began and then his voice shuttered and cracked with the same mistakably giddy stutters when Aaron continued to manipulate the young man's length, "Oh god," Spencer gasped before continuing, "physical condition and lack of-" he broke off panting and trying to gain greater contact with Aaron's hand but quickly tried to pick up his speech when he realized that the two – Aaron's touch and Spencer's words – were interconnected. He tried to clear his throat and continue, looking into the older man's narrowed darkening eyes as he tried to focus and speak, "a lack of a paternal history that would suggest otherwise – this," Reid dropped his eyes to Aaron's languidly moving fist, "-you could theoretically do this to me several times over." Another gasp, another shudder as Aaron's pace and pressure increased and Reid felt himself tumbling toward another brink.

Aaron moved in to kiss Reid as his pace continued, unflagging, "It's good that I'm not that cruel then," Hotch said driving Spencer to and then over the edge, only to release his grip and look down to see a diminished surge of fluid leave the young man, his erection still throbbing and dancing about in the air, begging for contact to complete the release. "Because if I were that cruel," Aaron whispered, lightly kissing Spencer's lips, "I imagine it would be excruciating." Aaron's sadistic laughter muffling the cries of the younger man, when after Aaron was sure Spencer was clear of his ruined release, he continued to stroke him again taking great care to exert cringe-inducing pressure on Reid's sensitive length.

"Don't." Reid cried out, nearly out of his mind with the burning pain and aching need for release that seemed as if it would never be granted. "Just please stop. Stop, Sir."

Aaron looked sideways at Reid as he took a step back, dropped his hand away from Reid's aching length. "You're right," Hotch said matter-of-factly. "I couldn't keep this up for a week anyhow. It seems fair to send you to bed like this," He gave another few quick strokes to Reid's arousal, pleased when the young man seemed to seek out greater contact, the pain had given way to renewed arousal.

"Get in bed," Aaron gestured to the turned-down King bed. "I'm sure I can find some work to start on." Reid took a few reluctant steps before turning to look at Hotch, wondering if he seriously expected him to attempt to sleep and if he did, if he was supposed to remain with his hands fastened behind his back.

"Get in bed." Aaron repeated firmly and then turned his back on Reid and walked to the desk, listening closely as the young man attempted to sit on the bed and then inch his way under the covers. Hotch sunk down behind the desk as Reid let out a simultaneous groan of relief, no doubt as the fabric of sheets ran over his sensitive length and he slid under the sheets.

Aaron feigned interest in the papers that covered the hotel-issue desk, all the while listening to the young man behind him tossing and turning on the bed, marked by the occasion groan of discomfort or disappointment and the rattle of the cuffs as they knocked together restlessly. Aaron removed his watch and set it on the desk in front of him, determined to restrain himself for at least ten minutes before going to Reid.

The minutes ticked by and Reid seemed to toss and turn with every other second but as the ten minute mark drew closer, Reid's tossing and turning ceased and Aaron heard what sounded like a wet sigh. Reid wasn't the type to manipulate with faux emotional displays so Hotch knew the sound was never meant for his ears. Aaron turned slowly to look over his shoulders and sure enough, Spencer's back was to him, and he caught that slender, marred back shiver a bit before Aaron turned his focus back to the desk.

Aaron waited another moment before he rose to his feet quietly and removed the undershirt he was still wearing and made to remove his slacks when he felt something heavy in one of the pockets. Ah yes, he thought upon dipping his fingers into the silky lining, the razor. Aaron removed it before kicking off his pants and the rest of his clothing.

Aaron could no longer be certain of Spencer's remaining arousal but Aaron's desire had remained, unflagging, since he had watched Spencer eye the braided belt as he removed it from his suitcase. At first it had pulsed with the heady arousal of retaliation but when Spencer had removed his underclothing to reveal the freshened cut on his shoulder, Aaron's singular desire had been to scoop the younger man up in his arms and not to leave him until the BAU sent out a search party. Aaron's action that night had reflected more the former than the latter and now was the time to redeem himself to Spencer, to make clear that jealousy was furthest feeling from his mind.

Aaron approached the bed slowly but Spencer did not turn to face him. Spencer's breathing had evened a bit and for a moment, Aaron wondered if he hadn't begun to drift toward sleep. Aaron looked over the younger man, taking in his steady breath, his loosely lidded eyes, and faint outline of his still-frustrated arousal. Aaron reached over and turned off the bedside light, submerging the room in darkness, save for the dim silver glare from Aaron's open laptop.

Reid opened his eye in the darkness and tried his best to impart a pleading glance to the older man, even through the dim room. Reid turned onto his back, looking up at Aaron, and began to beg again, "Please, sir. Please, I am sorry, I slipped. Please don't make me stay like this," He shifted uncomfortably to emphasize his hands still clasped behind his back.

Aaron clasped Reid's unmarred shoulder and pulled him into a sitting position, snatching the keys from the bedside table, he unfastened the younger man's wrists. Spencer had little time to enjoy his freedom because as soon as the cuffs had cleared his wrists they were replaced by Aaron's strong grip and he was guided back onto the mattress, a thin sheet the only thing separating Spencer from the feeling of the older man's warm, exposed skin.

Hotch could resist the urge to roll his hips teasingly into the younger man as he positioned himself above the young man who was now on his back, looking up at his with mix of desperation and hopefulness. Aaron could help being a little selfish, indulging in a lingering kiss to younger man's neck, nibbling and nipping outward from his neck toward the brand on his shoulder.

Reid began worrying his lower lip to stifle another sob but the closer Aaron drew to the tell-tale mark, the harder it became for him to keep his emotions in check. His arousal flagged some from the angst but still left a burn in his stomach that was quickly manifesting as distress. Aaron looked away from the patch of skin that he was toying with on Reid's collarbone and looked toward the young man. Aaron was used to Spencer's tears and in this headspace, he was obliged to ignore them but that had yet to feel natural or like the correct response.

Aaron brought his eyes level with the younger man, "If any one of those tears are fear that a piece of the Unit Chief still exists in this moment and that you'll be answering for those cuts somewhere outside this bed then put it out of that busy mind of yours," Aaron said seriously, looking into Spencer's frightened and remorseful eyes. No new tears left Spencer's eyes after those words, so Aaron leaned closer, his breath caressing Spencer's ear, "How did you do this?" Aaron kissed Spencer's cheek lightly, taking back many tears on his lips.

Spencer's lean fingers, which had been clutched in perpetual fists since their scene had begun, unfurled with the goal of capturing at least one of the hands that held his wrists captive. "The night of the morning that I'd left you," Spencer sighed and then moaned softly as Aaron pressed closer to him, allowing Spencer's hand to catch his, still keeping his hands in place. Spencer's hands clung to the one hand that Aaron had offered while Aaron's freed hand supported the older man as he supported himself above Reid.

Aaron hummed contentedly in a low growl as he kissed around the scratches on Spencer's shoulder. "How?" Aaron whispered, he'd meant it to sound demanding, gravely serious but Reid insistence at their contact, the needy stretch of the younger man's his towards his own left him sounding just as needy, lasciviously desperate for those sordid details.

"The same way you had," Reid said, timidly to his confessor, hoping that would suffice, maybe hoping to draw out the older man's pleasure just as Reid had been denied his.

Aaron sunk his nails into the palm of Reid's hand, the one that he had offered so readily not that long ago. "Spencer," His voice was low and threatening.

"I did it the first time before getting into the shower," Reid whined in pain as he spoke, he had hesitated causing Aaron to sink his teeth into another tender patch of skin.

Between the pain and the closeness of the older man, Spencer was beginning to feel that frustration uncoiling in his stomach and giving way to another overly-optimistic arousal. The shame and fear surrounding the re-cutting of those three letters having been assuaged now the remembering of those cuts only brought arousal. "I saw myself in the mirror," Spencer whispered, his face still wet from his tears, nuzzled the side Aaron's face, "I looked in the mirror and I could see you standing behind me."

Aaron kissed him before allowing him to continue, shifting their positions so that he lay facing Spencer. He had turned Spencer to his side, off of his injuries, and now running his freed hand over the cuts more readily.

Before Spencer continued, he drew as close as he could to the older man, bringing their arousal into intense, torturous contact. Reid moved his hips, enticing the other man to do the same. Reid continued, "I did it with a scalpel I had taken," Reid didn't elaborate any further, "it didn't feel the same without your fingers guiding it, without you to lean against," Reid sighed as began to return his squirming, bucking movement in languid agreement.

Spencer could sense the older man's desire was now keeping pace with his own frustration. "I'd drag it through the healing skin and I'd want so badly to beg for you, to beg for you to take my pain and control from me," Spencer tried to stray from the emotion that had swirled around each of their intimate moments but it was never far from either man's mind.

"What did you do after?" Aaron asked, kissing Spencer after his last admission.

"Not what you're thinking," Spencer said, grinding knowingly against the older man who was showing signs of losing his hold on composure. "I did everything I could not to do that, Sir." Spencer said with perfect obedience, licking his lips as he felt Aaron shiver. Spencer opened his eyes and with a look of wide-eyed submission, "That belongs to you now, doesn't it?" Spencer wriggled closer, working his freed fingertips toward the older man, and tentatively playing over those sweetly sensitive points, "I wanted badly to come when I made those marks, I could still feel you pressing into me," Spencer's hand came to enclose around both of their lengths. "Please, sir?" Reid begged with a final tilt of his hips. Aaron growled low in his throat before regaining enough control to turn the tables on Reid, replacing Spencer's hand with his and bring them over the edge.

Spencer didn't pull away from the older man as their bliss began to subside, instead he drew even closer. Spencer laid there, his eyes half-closed in blissful peace, drifting slowly into a contented sleep; he could feel unconsciousness spreading over him as warmly as the blanket that Aaron had pulled over them. Spencer's eyes sprung open when he felt a coolness on his wrist and then the sound of an all too familiar metallic click.

"Just in case you feel inclined to sneak out again," Aaron smiled broadly as Spencer began to sputter out objections. By the time Reid had formed a coherent protest, Aaron had already turned his back and pulled the cover over his shoulders, "See you in the morning."

A/N: I sat on this for months, still not confident about the characterization and the progression but I had fun writing it (most of it) and hopefully you enjoyed reading it. I am pretty certain that this marks the end of this series. I couldn't really go much farther without going totally far afield or warping the characters completely (some may argue, I already have). I appreciate all of your interest, readership, and branching into the other works I've put out there. As always, I trust you will be honest but kind. Also, if there is any crossover readership, I feel I should let you know that I have chapters for 'Restored' and 'Any Road' written but unpublished…that'll happen eventually. Thank you again for taking the time to read this and I hope you felt it was worthwhile.