Work Text:
Alternatively titled, "Cross My Heart"
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[]12/8, 7:18[] Can we do this for real someday?
[]12/8, 7:19[] I thought that was a given.
[]12/8, 7:19[] Although I doubt I’d be able to keep it to just pillow talk.
[]12/8, 7:21[] Problems keeping your hands to yourself?
[]12/8, 7:22[] Always.
[]12/8, 7:23[] But it’s 6am.
[]12/8, 7:24[] What, you’ve never had morning sex before?
[]12/8, 7:25[] Heard of it. Although I doubt its existence, or even enjoyment when it’s so early.
[]12/8, 7:27[] I guess we’ll have to fix that very wrong assumption one day.
[]12/8, 7:29[] Promise?
[]12/8, 7:29[] Cross my heart.
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Mid-March 2012
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The sun rises slow and hazy behind grey clouds on the third morning since Spencer walked through the doors of the BAU. Since he had run straight into Aaron’s arms and refused to let go for the longest stretch of time.
In a sense, he still hasn’t let go – every chance they get they are somehow touching. Fingertips grazing, standing close enough to feel the heat of the other’s body, always glancing over to make sure that this is real . That they are really in the same room, and somehow they always find a way to gravitate towards each other once more. No matter where they are, as if they can’t help it in the slightest.
And at night, when they are alone, they never stop touching.
In bed, in the shower, even helping each other get dressed and undressed they are… always touching. Not just in a sexual sense, sometimes just sitting together – shoulder to shoulder, knees knocking, Spencer leaning against Aaron’s arm as they look through files or books. Including the one moment they got to video chat with Jack for three minutes flat while he and Jessica were on the way to Aaron’s father-in-law’s house in rural Virginia. Spence sat in Aaron’s lap for that, leaning back against his chest so they were both in the frame. As close as close can get.
That’s not to say that they don’t engage in anything sexual. Because they do.
Oh – do they ever.
That first night it never stops, one after the other, hours on hours, until the sun rises and they are exhausted and sated and covered in marks from every pleasure-soaked moment.
The second night they are worn out from work, and Spencer is very… sore from the night before. So they get lost in other things: their hands, their bodies, heavy petting and a very long shower where Spencer takes a turn on his knees and pleasures Aaron there against the tiled wall. Water cascading down beside him and Aaron’s legs nearly give out when he comes hard, the picture of those eyes looking up at him and that hair slicked back with his fingers woven through – now forever burned in his mind.
They got out and curled up together in bed, swathed in actual sleep clothes, and Aaron knows now he never wants to fall asleep in a bed without Spencer there beside him. Curled into his side, wrapped up in his arms, head on his chest and breath on his skin and a smile there on his lips every time he leans in to kiss him.
He sleeps like a baby all night, and wakes on a bleary, grey Sunday morning – looking over to Spencer’s sleeping face and finds his heart suddenly too big for his chest. Threatening to burst out with every thumping beat. His gaze traces every line, every slow breath that moves Spencer’s chest ever so subtly. Soft mouth and expression at peace, curls a mess against the pillows, and Aaron stares for far longer than he plans. Thinking about… everything that has led them there. Every text, every phone call, every milestone. Every conversation that precluded to this , to this moment where Spencer is within reach – and he punctuates it by gently moving an auburn curl out of Spencer’s face. So he can see him more, memorize every inch of his face in the morning grey.
It’s still very early, the hotel room silent and hazy, but Aaron knows that there are multiple agents that are within shouting distance of the room. He and Spencer are due back at the BAU headquarters in a couple hours, as well – no days off when a terrorist cell has your number – but being the Unit Chief has many perks. One being that Aaron gets to say they have a late start on a random Sunday morning. (With absolutely no objections whatsoever from any of his team, save for a few smirks and knowing looks that had Aaron second-guessing his decision.)
And yet, Aaron still wakes before the sun.
Usually he would go for a run, which isn’t allowed either with their current security risk, but… he’s not sure he would have moved from that bed even if he tried.
Not with Spencer there beside him, face calm and slack and lost in a dream, and he is so… perfect. So beautiful first thing in the morning.
With careful movements, Aaron maneuvers the two of them. Turns Spencer the smallest amount so he rolls to his side and Aaron can press in behind him. Arms around his waist, chest to back, legs tangled and hips flush and embrace him fully. Breathe him in–
His pulse begins to thump a little harder in his veins. His intentions had been totally innocent to begin with, wanting to hold Spencer and feel his heartbeat beneath his hands, feel how he fit against Aaron and how he perfectly molded to him even without waking. Only to find he fit a little too perfectly. The way Spencer instinctually presses himself back into his body, from head to toe, has warmth bursting in his chest and pooling low, waking Aaron up in an entirely new fashion. Slow, growing arousal sparking in his blood and spreading in tendrils. He hums low, happily, blissful and… a little turned on in the most strangely content way. Spencer is still asleep, but his instinctive reactions to curl back and arch against Aaron’s hard body is nearly intoxicating.
Aaron holds him as the sun finally starts to rise, streaking golden around the hotel curtains, and he presses feather-light kiss after kiss along those shoulders and the graceful lines of his neck. Fingertips grazing the sleep-soft skin of his stomach beneath his shirt. Less pawing at him, as they had all night before, and more mapping out the shapes of his body. The dips and planes and curves and warmest stretches. Spencer hums softly, too, waking slow and stubborn; but one soft kiss low on his neck has his breath wavering and Aaron knows the man he loves has finally joined him.
“Good morning,” he rumbles low, the bass of his own voice tumbling through him and into where he and Spencer meet.
“Morning,” Spencer mumbles back with drowsy, heavy words, stretching within Aaron’s arms. Taller than the bed is long, but without breaking from their embrace. Priorities. Such as Aaron’s fingertips still grazing where his shirt rides up. Eyes remaining closed as his body begins to wake inch by inch, touch by touch. “It’s dark. What are you doing up?”
“Thinking,” Aaron answers. Spencer hums lowly to encourage elaboration. “Reminiscing.” Aaron places another gentle kiss to his neck that draws delicious tones from somewhere low in Spencer’s chest. “Recalling a promise I made to you a long, long time ago.” His words dip to whispers as the trail of kisses grow heavier, hotter and sticking to his bare skin as he traces up Spencer’s neck. Until his mouth is against the younger man’s ear when he speaks. “About the ‘merits of morning sex’ , and proving you wrong about their worth?”
Those two words are like an electric shock to their systems, the memory fading in of a time where they longed for a moment such as this. Thousands of miles away, in separate beds, messaging like teenagers under the covers and wishing this day would come.
It gets Spencer to open his eyes, his breath lost to him, speechless in the wake of the statement. His body grows impossibly warm beneath the sheets, beneath Aaron’s wandering hands, and he licks his lips – still facing away, Aaron pressed all along his back – becoming acutely aware of how his body is reacting. And their proximity. How if he gives into the instinct to curl back, a subtle arch in his spine, his backside would line up with Aaron’s pelvis and… if he pushed into him there… The charged feeling intensifies.
God, they had touched each other everywhere, in every way possible, over the past two days – and still Spencer feels his face grow as hot as the rest of him.
“I remember that conversation,” he finally murmurs, giving in. Just the smallest bit. The temptation too staggering. He sinks back further into Aaron’s arms, strong and anchored from their long night’s sleep, the most comforting sensation. And when paired with how the movement puts the older man’s growing erection pressed up against him, the effect is dizzying. “Verbatim.”
Spencer feels Aaron smile against his flushed skin, tugging the collar of his sleep shirt lower to tease the sensitive nerve endings along the base of his neck where it meets his collar bones. Spencer does his best to not sound as breathless as he actually is. “You really can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Do you want me to?” Aaron asks, those strong fingers and wide palms nearly encompassing the whole of his waist in his caresses, and Spencer’s heart skips despite it beating double time against his ribs. How Aaron still asks, even though they spoke of it before. Had done everything and more only the night before. No expectations. Just coexistence, melding, fluctuating heat and touch and everything in between.
“No,” he begs, softly, “Don’t stop.” His hands now cover Aaron’s own, “Show me –” and he wants to simultaneously lead Aaron’s hands where every blood cell in his body is rushing towards, but he also wants to turn around and kiss the man senseless.
But –
His mind fully wakes, adrenaline coursing through him, and his thoughts whirl out of control. Oscillating between one and the next faster than he can quantify. All the reasons this could go the way of disaster, he can’t even think of what he wants to say and the first brilliant point that comes out of his mouth is –
“My breath is terrible.”
Five doctorates, and that’s his first deduction. Morning breath.
And Aaron laughs at him.
But he doesn’t let go, doesn’t cease his exploration of Spencer’s body by mapping it with his hands, and the sound doesn’t hurt because it is so familiar to Spencer. So full of love and understanding. He can feel the way it vibrates through his chest, pressed to Spencer’s back, and the pure resonance of that sensation keeps the panic at bay. So much so… that when the man collects himself a moment later, and Spencer is bracing himself for mortification, Aaron kisses the back of his neck once more. And whispers low enough to echo through his bones –
“I’ll just have to kiss you everywhere else, then.”
And he does.
Along his neck, at the junction of his shoulder as his hands pull Spencer back against him. Tightly. Purposefully. One palm going up his chest beneath his shirt, hiking it up as he went, to where Spencer’s heart is a runaway thing in his chest; and the other one going down. All the way down . Teasing the trail of hair that leads to his waistline, fingers dipping beneath the fabric smallest amount. Torturous. Spencer nods enthusiastically, shifting from where they still lay on that hotel bed to give more access. The places where they were pressed into the mattress all night long like warm cushioned molds that keep him in place, daring to suck him back under the veil of sleep when his eyes slip closed in bliss – and Aaron takes him in hand. Warm and heavy. Spencer gasps at the leisurely, firm touches; his head tilted back and his body arching more against the pillows and sheets. Becoming more mussed and disheveled with every stroke, each ministration soft and loving and slow as molasses. Aaron curls around him more to breathe him in, lips grazing the side of his throat as Spencer arches and intertwines them further. Feels the reverberation of every gasp and moan tremble through the skin.
God, Aaron could never get enough of him.
He kisses at Spencer’s shoulders, his collarbones when he can reach, pets every bit of skin and slides his boxers down his hips boldly. Kisses along his sides as he moves down his body bit by bit, caressing every exposed inch as he undresses him beneath the covers, and marvels at the sensation of his sleep-soft skin. Still littered with blooming watercolor marks of their love-making the night before last – including small, circular colorations that match his fingerprints. He’d never done that before. Gotten so lost in pleasure he hadn’t realized what he’d left behind.
Behind him, in the nightstand on his side of the bed ( God , when was the last time he’d had a side of the bed? That alone sends a giddy warmth pulsing through him) is the bottle that has been well-used the past two days. Aaron reaches back without halting his preoccupied hand, wanting to make this so good Spencer never – ever – forgets it. No matter what happens after this case. With slicked up fingers he presses and probes gently into the younger man, spreading him in preparation that is just as slow and dragging as his hand around his cock. It takes barely a breath for Spencer to turn to a molten mess in his arms. Gasps, whines, tremors and the most wonderful little sounds that Aaron wants to hear ringing in his ears forever. He goes back to kissing whatever he can reach of him – neck, shoulders, spine, hair – just to hear Spencer make more.
His long dexterous fingers card through Aaron’s dark locks. Scholar’s hands, now scratching at his scalp and holding on so he doesn’t topple into oblivion too soon. Aaron’s name lost on a breath, shaky, hoarse from his deep slumber only moments ago. And when he manages to speak, high and breathless as he tries to inhale – “Aaron, please,” he begs the man to skip the next half dozen steps and get them to the part he’s already hurtling towards.
“Not yet,” Aaron soothes him. "Just a little more.” The younger man’s impatience both alluring and incredibly intoxicating… just how much Spencer wants this, wants him, so much it makes his head swim and Aaron has to force steady breaths to keep his own head on straight. It doesn’t help that Spencer seems to be feeling no discomfort whatsoever, no matter if it’s two fingers or three, or even as Aaron hikes the man’s leg up and back slightly in an angle that shouldn’t be as easy as Spencer’s long limbs make it. He’s so flexible this early in the morning, every inch of him slow and lazy from sleep and so easily maneuvered –
“Fuck,” Aaron exhales the word, his head very much spinning now, and then Spencer gasps sharp enough it stalls his hands entirely. The shaky breath Spencer gives is traced with relief.
“I was close,” he murmurs.
“Guess I better catch up,” Aaron concludes, kicking off his boxers and grabbing the condom off the nightstand. Keeping strong arms still locked around Spencer to hold him in place.
“Like this?” Spencer questions, looking over his shoulder as he realizes that Aaron hasn’t made him even sit up in the slightest. They are still laying on their sides, spooning if not for his spread legs and Aaron wrapped around him. “Can you even reach like this?” With Spencer’s leg draped up over his arm. Which is strong and flexed as he holds the younger man just right – and slides right into him. So deep Spencer’s breath hitches and he can’t catch it again, his lungs seized up and a moan catches in his throat.
“Are you alright?” Aaron asks, and Spencer nods with a plea to move that he isn’t entirely sure was said in English. But his lover complies, easy as breathing.
Aaron moves slow, languid, drawing out his pleasure thread by thread. Spencer exclaiming and praising in languages Aaron doesn’t know. Proof his brain is practically melting out his ears. But he understands well enough as the younger man’s legs quiver and shake in his grasp. His body pliant and lost to the pleasure.
Eventually they roll to the bed, until Aaron is over him with Spencer’s belly to the mattress, not breaking even breaking his stride. His weight is warm and heavy and still thrusting slow, undulating maneuvers. Spencer moves with him, his body reduced to instinctual, wave-like motions that bring him up, and down, and up again, his spine curves like a wave caught in a bottle to crash into Aaron’s trusts. Not hard, not fast, but deep and deliberate and devastating .
Spencer didn’t even know he could do that. And it chases the breath out of him each and every time.
Aaron kisses his shoulders, his cheeks when he turns his head, the back of his neck and the curve of his ears beneath the damp curls. Loves every part of him until Spencer’s body can’t take any more.
He comes hard, muffled cries into the mattress so they don’t alert their stationed guards. But Aaron feels it, and it sends him chasing his own release – thick, strong arms wrapping around Spencer and thrusting faster. The confines of his embrace the safest, most exhilarating place Spencer has ever experienced in his life. Like being within the bellows of a raging storm.
And when Aaron comes, Spencer is the one breathing out his name.
With his last bit of strength, Aaron rolls them to his side of the bed, shifted just to the right of the mess on the sheets. And they lay there, spent, soaked in oblivion with twin hearts racing in euphoria.
“Am I allowed to go back to sleep?” Spencer asks, long moments later. Still breathless.
“Once you admit morning sex has its merits,” Aaron replies.
Spencer smiles, eyes closed in bliss and limbs like jelly. Or lead. Could there be a lead-based gelatin? He bet there could, he’d break down the chemical compounds and equations later. Much later. Like noon.. “I still insist it would have been just as good at 8:00 or 9:00 A.M. instead of – “
Curiosity gets the better of him. Damn his brain. Spencer deigns to open his eyes to glance at the clock on the bedside table over Aaron’s shoulder and immediately groans. “ – Good Christ, 6:30 in the morning.”
He collapses back from the half crunch he’d been in and curls into Aaron’s chest with his eyes stubbornly squeezed shut. He can feel Aaron laugh, though the man tries to smother it.
“No,” Aaron denies his statement. “It's best just as the sun is rising.”
“Prove it.”
Aaron smiles down at him, running his fingertips along Spencer’s shoulders and arms soothingly. Adoringly. “I guess I will. We can test your theory if you wish.” Spencer buries his face in Aaron’s embrace to block out the morning creeping into their room, but he can feel the way the other’s mouth curves into a smothered smile. “Sleep. I’ll wake you.”
“Promise?” comes the muffled request.
“Cross my heart.”
He kisses the top of Spencer’s head, the auburn curls soaking up the morning in an afterglow as soft and golden as the sunlight caught in the strands beneath his affection.
And Aaron Hotchner once again wonders how in the world he had ever waited so long to know a moment this perfect? How could he ever let it go, when the time came?
… maybe, he wouldn’t have to.
A thought, not for the first time, crosses his mind and stays there as Aaron watches Spencer slip back into slumber. Wondering, weighing, pondering, and coming to the same conclusion time and time again as the world woke up beyond their hotel room window. Another day awaiting them, and possibly (hopefully, maybe) many more to come… just the same as this.
Together.
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