Happy birthday babygurl0506! I hope you enjoy this fic, I had heaps of fun writing this.

My apologies to everyone, I think I misled you into thinking all the references to handcuffs and circular beds were going to lead to a smutty scene, but my muse had other plans. Hopefully I haven't disappointed you too much. If you really are desperate for a Hotch-in-handcuffs smutty fic, I have just written one entitled "The Benefits of Therapeutic Release" so check that out. If that doesn't give you your smut fix for the month, I don't know what will ;P

I own none of the characters (except the pimply-faced motel clerk).

"So Prentiss, who's this Thundercock guy and where did you meet him?" Morgan flashed a teasing smile at her and took a bite of his roast beef. The team had just finished their consult with the local PD after three exhausting days and had stopped off at a restaurant for dinner before heading back to their motel. JJ, Garcia and Reid were buying drinks while Hotch was making use of the facilities.

"Just the fact that you are dying to know is reason enough for me not to tell you anything." Emily gave her team mate a smug look before putting a cherry tomato into her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I thought I heard Morgan say Thundercock, but surely I misheard." Dave cocked an eyebrow at the both of them. He looked amused rather than surprised. Emily thought he'd probably not only seen everything, he'd heard them too.

Morgan laughed, raising his hands up in front of him. "Hey, that's what Prentiss calls the mystery guy, not me. Speaking of which, why the hell have you called him that, anyway?"

Emily shot him a look. "So I won't tell you who he is but I'd tell you why I've named him that?"

"Oh, come on, girl, tell us. Is it the size of his man muscle?" Morgan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not sayin'." She popped a french fry in her mouth. She looked up, seeing JJ and Garcia approach with Reid in tow.

"Well then, it must be the way he wields his lethal weapon." Morgan winked at her, taking a sip of his coffee.

Dave groaned. "For God's sake, Morgan, just use the word penis like normal people do, will you? And stop asking Emily about her personal life. Like she'd tell someone whose lips are even looser than his morals."

"Hey." Morgan looked hurt.

Emily snickered.

"Hi guys," chirped Garcia, getting into the seat next to Morgan and putting her drink on the table. "What are we talking about?"

"Mr Thundercock, Emily's mystery man. I know you ladies are sworn to secrecy so I won't waste my time asking you. Hey Reid, you know who he is?" asked Morgan.

Reid froze in the act of sitting down. "What?" he squeaked, his eyes rounding. "How would I know? I'm not present when Emily engages in sexual intercourse."

Emily swore the water she had just drunk came out of her nose at Reid's reply. Oh God, this was getting ridiculous. She wiped her nose and mouth while everyone at the table tried to catch their breath from laughing so hard. The females especially. She rolled her eyes inwardly. Going by the hysterical laughter, she'd have bet her car that Garcia had conjured the image of Reid standing beside the bed, gaping, while she and Hotch went at it. Okay, even she had to admit that was pretty funny.

"What's going on?"

She looked up to see Hotch a.k.a. Thundercock take a seat at the table, face set in its usual serious expression. He glanced around at the team before taking a bite of his spaghetti.

Apparently undeterred from his quest for the holy grail of Thundercock, Morgan replied, "Oh nothing, we were just talking about Emily's current squeeze. You don't happen to know who Thundercock is, do you?"

Hotch choked on his pasta and started to cough violently. Dave, who was next to him, quickly pounded him on his back. While the males looked on with concern, Emily cast a glance at her girlfriends. JJ's fist was pressed hard against her mouth, trying desperately not to laugh while Garcia looked like she was biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, her eyes enormous behind her glasses.

Finally recovered, Hotch frowned at Morgan. "If Emily doesn't want to divulge details of her personal life, then I suggest you lay off, Morgan. Otherwise I'm going to think that you are in need of a Bullying and Harassment Refresher Course."

"Sheesh, Hotch, calm down. All you had to say was I don't know who Thundercock is. No need to get riled up."

Hotch's mouth tightened. Uh oh, thought Emily. She knew that look. He was not pleased. "I am not riled up Morgan. Unlike you, Emily's nickname for her friend doesn't make me feel sexually inadequate."

Emily bit back a smile. That was a tiny bit unfair.

"I do not feel sexually inadequate," protested Morgan, brows drawing together.

"I think you do," piped up Reid. "Unless you've also been called Thundercock, which I highly doubt. I've never even heard of the word till five days ago, and I know all 171,476 words in the Oxford Dictionary, including 47,156 obsolete words."

Penelope spoke up. "Well, then, you, my little padawan, need to read the urban dictionary." She looked down at her cell. "Says here that thunder cock means a penis of extraordinary length, girth, power, and magical ability and has the capability of satisfying any woman." She smiled teasingly at Emily. "That's like an uber compliment, Emily, you sure you want to stick to that nickname?"

"Absolutely." Emily didn't dare look at Hotch, fearing that if she did, she would completely crack up and give the game away.

"All right, team, let's finish up so that we can go back to the motel," directed Hotch, clearly keen to change the subject, although not for the reason the men in the team were thinking.

"Great, I can't wait to get back to the most uncomfortable bed I have ever slept in," said Dave drily.

"Or the 100 year old bathrooms with the yellow stain in the bathtub," added JJ, shuddering.

"This is hands down the worst motel we've ever stayed in," commented Derek.

"No, the worst motel was the one in Santa Fe," said Reid. "I was wondering about the condom wrappers in the wastepaper basket in my room until I noticed that the motel had hourly rates."

Everyone laughed. There was further laughter when Garcia said that she thought she'd accidentally left a pair of her panties in the wardrobe. It was only when she picked them up that she discovered they were crotchless.

"Hey, at least we have our own rooms here, guys." Emily tried to console her team mates. "You know we can never agree on who we want to share our room with."

"Except for my triple chocolate muffin and me," called out Garcia, making Morgan chuckle.

The rest of the dinner passed enjoyably enough, aided by rather copious amounts of alcohol. Emily even managed to persuade Hotch to have a couple of beers. And when JJ asked why beers and not scotch, Emily shushed her friend and said she would explain another time.

It turned out to be a good thing that they were all in a mellow mood because they were immediately greeted by bad news when they returned to the motel.

"You what?" Hotch's voice was dangerously quiet as he glared at the hapless clerk.

The team stepped back to let their team leader deal with the situation. JJ stood to one side, talking to Will.

The clerk swallowed nervously. "W..we thought you checked out this morning, sir. A..and the rooms were only prepaid till today."

"I specifically told your colleague this morning to hold the rooms for us."

"I..I'm r..really sorry, sir, I'll have a look to s..see what rooms we still have av..available," stammered the pimply-faced boy, who couldn't have been older than 19. He looked so terrified that Emily wouldn't have been surprised if he was currently in the process of wetting his pants. Hotch could scare the poop out of your bowels with just one look. From the set of his jaw, she could tell that he was pissed. That particular thought sparked an idea in her currently sex obsessed brain. She tried to stifle a smile.

"Uh oh," murmured Garcia, stepping closer and following the direction of Emily's gaze. "Why do you look like you're the big bad hungry wolf whose just seen Little Red Riding Hotch?"

Emily grinned. "Hey, I can't help it if I find my boyfriend tastier than tofurkey." She winked at her bespectacled tofu-loving friend.

"You are in so much doodoo, ma chérie," whispered Garcia.

"What do you mean?" Emily was confused.

"You are totally, completely, head over heels in love with our Unit Chief."

Emily opened her mouth to deny it, but no sound emerged. She couldn't be, could she? They were just fooling around, no strings attached. Right? But as she stared the dark-haired man who was now demanding to see the room bookings, she knew in her heart that whatever it was between them meant something, at least to her. Was she really in love with her supervisor? She tried to think rationally about her feelings. Everything that came to mind pointed to 'hell, yes!'. The way her eyes immediately sought him out when she knew he was around, the way her heart skipped a beat when his eyes met hers, the way she knew exactly what he was feeling at any given time (just as he knew hers), the painful longing she felt whenever they were apart for anything more than a mere 24 hours.

"I'm right aren't I?"

Emily looked at her friend. "I'm in deep shit."

Garcia grabbed her hand and held it tight. Emily tried to smile.

They looked up when Hotch walked back over. He looked supremely displeased. JJ joined them a brief moment after that.

"There are only three rooms available. A room with two singles, a room with a double and a single and a double room – the honeymoon suite."

There was a collective raising of the eyebrow at that last part of the statement, then silence as everyone mulled over the bedding configurations.

"We girls will take the triple room," volunteered Emily.

"Yeah, except that means two of us guys will have to double up. In which case I bags the room with the two singles," said Derek. "And I'm not sleeping with Reid."

"I'm not sleeping with Reid either. Sorry Reid." Dave didn't appear particularly apologetic.

"Umm…" Reid looked awkwardly at Hotch. "No offense Hotch, but I'm not sleeping with you, not in a double bed anyway."

"Well, that answers my six year long question about your sexual orientation," quipped Garcia. There was some snickering from the team, mainly emanating from Morgan's direction. "You're all a bunch of Reid-o-phobes," she declared. "Oh, except you, sir," she quickly added.

Hotch looked like he was about to say something, but then changed his mind. Emily bit back a laugh. He couldn't say he was a 'Reid-o-phobe', to use Garcia's term, but he couldn't exactly offer to sleep with Reid either. It was probably a good think he didn't offer, or she would have had to intervene, and the cat would be out of the bag. No one gets to sleep with her man, female or male. Whoa there, Emily, irrational jealousy alert. Towards Reid. Yep, she was definitely in love. Either that or she was just a crazy bitch with a sexual obsession for her superior.

"You sure you don't want to share the honeymoon suite with Hotch, Reid? You'd make the perfect blushing bride," teased Morgan.

"I'm going to get you back for that, Morgan." Reid shot his team mate a furious look.

"Enough, both of you." Hotch was starting to look even more thunderous than usual and Emily knew his patience was fraying. "Can we just try and sort this out sometime before the sun rises?"

"I know, I know!" cried out Garcia.

Emily frowned suspiciously. Her friend was looking way too excited for discussing something as mundane as room sharing.

"Okay, Morgan and Rossi, you share the twin room. JJ and I will share the triple room with Dr Brainiac here." She grinned at Reid. "We're more than happy to sleep with you, Dr Reid." Garcia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Reid blushed bright red. "E, you can share the honeymoon suite with Hotch."

"I don't think that's appropriate, Garcia," said Hotch. He was about to continue but Garcia cut in before he could speak.

"I'm sure you can sort out some appropriate sleeping arrangements, sir. Like taking the floor while Emily takes the bed. In the meantime, our menage of three is going to get our key cards and retire." She hooked her arms into JJ's and Reid's and before Emily could even open her mouth, they were already speaking to the clerk.

Dave looked at Morgan, a resigned look on his face. "Guess it's you and me."

Morgan sighed, picking up his go bag. "Rossi, if you start snoring, I'm going gag you, I swear."

The two men started to move towards the front desk. Just before they out of earshot, Emily heard Rossi's reply. "Morgan, I think you're confusing me for your date. Lay one finger on me, and you'll find out exactly what it is I keep under my pillow. I'll give you one hint: it has bullets in it."

Emily stared after Garcia. "Well, hell. Unbelievable isn't it? Two seasoned profilers like us outmanoeuvred by a technical analyst." She turned to look at Hotch whose dark eyes were already fixed on her. "I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so horny."

Hotch blinked at her. "Surely you didn't just say what I thought you said."

"You heard me, honey. Come on, let's go get our key card. I'm dying to see what the honeymoon suite looks like in this classy joint."

Less than five minutes later they were on their way to their room. Emily swiped their card and upon opening the door, pushed the card into the card slot next to the door. The lights came on inside the room.

The two agents froze.

"Oh. My. God." Emily stared at the object which took prime position in the large room. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If by 'that' you mean a circular bed covered by obscenely red satin sheets and about a thousand pink, frilly heart-shaped pillows, then yes." Hotch gently nudged her inside the room and closed the door behind them, locking it.

Emily walked over to the bed. "I have never seen anything like this in my entire life." She looked up. "Hey, check it out, babe, I'll finally be able to watch you while you pound into me like it's your last night on this earth."

"We are not having sex on that bed, Emily," replied Hotch calmly, ignoring her attempt to get a rise out of him.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Hotch. We can't let this opportunity pass by. I mean, where would we ever come across such an incredibly gaudy and ridiculous bed again?" She sat on the bed, then lay down on it after pushing away about twelve cushions out of the way. "Hey, it's actually pretty comfortable. Like ten times more comfortable than the bed I had."

Hotch looked up from unpacking his toiletries, a frown of concentration on his face. She grinned at him. He had a set routine when it came to unpacking. First the toiletries go into the bathroom, then the suits into the wardrobe, then the t-shirt and boxers which constituted his pyjamas go on the bed. There was also a bedtime routine and a morning routine. He even had a routine for the shower, now that she couldn't resist messing up. She did love all his routines, though. They were just so … Hotch. Okay, she obviously had it bad for him. Really bad.

"That bed's comfortable, really?" He gave her a dubious look but came over. Pushing another fourteen pillows out of the way, mainly onto the carpeted floor, he lay down next to her. "You weren't kidding." There was a note of surprise in his voice. Probably because like hers, the bed he had slept in the last few nights had been uncomfortable to the point of torture. Hotch closed his eyes. "I'm so tired I could just go to sleep right now."

"Uh uh. Not yet." Emily got up and straddled his hips, smiling when his eyes flew open. Before he could say anything, she pressed her lips to his. She put every ounce of passion in that kiss, coaxing his mouth to open. And when it did, she went all out, stroking his tongue with hers, running her tongue over the sensitive, inner surfaces of his lips. She silently cheered when his hands came up and grasped her ass, pressing her into him. Ha, so much for his 'we're not having sex'. He'd obviously forgotten how incredibly horny he got when he'd had a few beers. Fortunately for her, she hadn't.

She gasped, feeling his body's reaction against her. He was ready, and so was she. Which was why it took a few seconds for his question to register.

"Emily." She arched her throat to give him more access to that spot that he knew drove her wild. "Have you seen my handcuffs?"

"Hmm…?"

Hotch sucked on that spot. She moaned. He asked her again. "Sweetheart, I need my handcuffs and I can't find them."

What was he going on about? "Oh yes, just like that. Um ... yes, honey, I saw the notch on the headboard for them too, but can we just have normal missionary sex tonight? I'm not really …" she struggled to keep her train of thought as he pulled her pants down over her hips. "I'm not really in the mood for handcuffs."

Hotch chuckled. "Emily, I'm talking about my work handcuffs. I seem to have misplaced them."

She frowned, her mind still foggy. "Oh. Why didn't you say so? You left them in the SUV so I stuck them in the outside pocket of my go bag, next to the lubricant."

His mouth twitched. "Of course you did, I don't know why it didn't occur to me to look there first." His voice was dryer than dust.

"Enough about the handcuffs. Come back here and kiss me, Unit Chief. After which I'd be obliged if we can have us some plain old-fashioned sex."

Hotch smiled up at her. "I've got a better idea. How about if we made love instead?"

Emily stared at him, struck speechless. Wonder filled her at the sight of the tenderness and warmth emanating from his eyes. "Wh..what are you saying, Hotch?"

"I'm saying that I love you, Emily Prentiss."

"Oh." She blinked furiously, trying to keep her tears at bay as she looked down at the man she adored with every fibre of her being. "I love you, Aaron Hotchner."

He smiled, cupping her cheek with his hand and drawing her down to him. "Well then, show me."

Three hours later…

"Are you shitting me?" Morgan groaned loudly, clamping a pillow over his head. "Again? How can they still be … You know what? I can't take this anymore." He sat up. "I'm calling the front desk."

"Good luck with that, like that kid's going to do something about it," retorted Dave. He winced when Morgan switched the bedside lamp on.

"Yeah, hello? This is room 126, I'd like to report a disturbance in the room next door."

"What sort of disturbance, sir. Should I call 911?" The kid's voice was quavering.

"I'm a federal agent, so no, don't call 911. It's not that type of disturbance." Morgan rolled his eyes.

"What is it then?"

"There's a hell of a lot of noise coming from next door."

"Oh." The kid sounded nonplussed. It was lucky he wasn't physically there or Morgan would have wrung his neck. "Uh … what sort of noise?"

"The sound of people having sex and the bed hitting the wall. Repeatedly. You know what I mean." Morgan paused, an image of the clerk appearing in his mind's eye. Or maybe he didn't know. Freaking hell.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, I should have warned you. The room next to yours is the honeymoon suite. That happens a lot in there. Sorry about that."

Morgan froze. No way, it couldn't be. "Uh, how many honeymoon suites have you got?"

"Just the one, sir. I gave it to one of the FBI agents – jeepers!" Realisation dawned in his voice.

The word Morgan uttered was earthier and far filthier. "Don't worry about it kid." He hung up without waiting for a reply.

The noises continued.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Moan.

Bang. Bang.

Groan.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

A feminine voice screamed out a name.

Morgan's eyes met Dave's. It was a name they had both uttered only a few short hours ago. Albeit in a far lower decibel and without the high orgasmic pitch. By Morgan's count, this was at least the fifth climax of the night. And that was only Emily.

"Well, I guess we know why he's named Thundercock," Dave said drily.

A second later the banging resumed.

"Amazing. He's like a fucking pneumatic drill." Dave's voice held the faintest hint of admiration. "I really think Emily should rename Hotch Hammercock. It has a certain ring to it."

Morgan got out of his bed, grabbing his pillow and blanket.

"Where are you going?" asked Dave in surprise.

"I'm not going to lie here listening to Emily and Hotch … Hammercock, Thundercock whatever get it on. I'm going to sleep in the girls room. You coming?"

Dave opened his mouth to reply. Just then a loud vibrating sound came from next door. The banging immediately halted. There was a pause, then came the sound of masculine and feminine laughter.

"Either that's some crazy ass vibrator or there's a vibrating bed next door," said Morgan, pulling his boots on. As he pulled open the door, a moan floated through the wall.

The older profiler got out of bed and pushed his feet into his slippers. "Wait up, I'm coming with you."

As they walked down the corridor, Dave said conversationally. "Not that it's a surprise but it seems Hotch is an overachiever in the bedroom too."

Morgan knocked on the door of the girls' room. He gave Dave a look of disbelief. "Really, Rossi? After listening to that marathon love fest you want to profile Hotch's sexual behaviour?"

"Not really." Dave shrugged. A thoughtful look appeared on his face. "I have often wondered though, whether he loses the frown when he's in the throes of passion, so to speak. I'll have to remember to ask Emily tomorrow."

The door opened. Garcia blinked sleepily at them. "What are you guys doing here?" She stood aside to let them in.

"We're here courtesy of SSA Thundercock and Emily 'The Screamer' Prentiss." Morgan dumped his bedding on the floor.

"SSA Hammercock," corrected Dave, following suit.

"Oh my goodness, this sounds like it's going to be a deliciously adult bedtime story." Garcia rubbed her hands with glee. "Just wait while I put the kettle on."

LOL hope you found that mildly entertaining. Leave me a review if you can. Thanks for your prompts, babygurl0506, they completely rocked!