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Hotch stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulders, his boxers sitting low on his hips. Soft rain pattered on the window, and Aaron leaned against the doorway to look at the quiet scene before him; Reid had his feet propped up on the desk, leaning back in his chair as he held a book in one palm, his thumbnail between his teeth as a curl escaped from his haphazard, half-up hair. The light from the low lamp painted him like an oil portrait, bringing out the herbal hues in his eyes and the lonely freckles on his cheeks, like the lounge had conjured up a sunspot just for him.
Aaron scarcely breathes, not wanting to shatter the moment, but feeling his core ache to hold his partner as securely and delicately as Reid held that book. His feet move of their own volition, crossing the threshold in two quick strides to carefully pluck the book from his hands, any resistance dying on Spencer’s tongue as Hotch’s lips meet his, warm and soft.
“I was reading that,” Spencer mumbles, a rumble of thunder harmonizing with him. Hotch hums, kissing him again sweetly, twisting one of his curls around his finger.
“I could see that. But the book will still be there later,” he whispers against Spencer’s mouth. “But I think I’m a little more important. I can’t live with someone so pretty in my house without reminding them every once in a while.”
“Mmh.” One of Spencer’s hands comes up to cup the back of Aaron's head, tangling into the black strands still damp from his shower, bleeding warmth into Spencer’s palm. Hotch’s warm lips begin to trace down the muscles in Spencer’s neck, pulled taut as he tilts his head back. “I was enjoying my reading.”
“Maybe I can make it up to you,” Hotch murmurs, pressing kisses into the crooks and divots of skin, feeling his quickening pulse against his mouth. “How do you feel about listening to it, instead?”
“I don’t - ah… own any audiobooks…”
“No, you silly thing,” Hotch chuckles, the sound so deep and melodic, Spencer would have confused it for thunder if he didn’t feel the heat of it against his neck, “let me recite it for you.”
“Do you know any poetry that well…?” Spencer sighs softly as Hotch mouths pleasantly against his collarbone.
“I do. You read to me all the time…”
The rain on the roof accentuates Spencer’s shiver. “I didn’t realize you were listening. Most people tune me out.”
“Not me,” Hotch’s hands wrap around Spencer’s waist, pulling him closer, his voice a low whisper. “I could never. Not you, Reid.”
Spencer gasps softly, partially from the words, partially from the way Hotch has bitten a lovemark into his neck. He moans brusquely, his voice deepening with need. “Aaron…”
“Let me take you to bed,” he murmurs, sounding just as breathless as Spencer. “Please. I can recite poetry just as well as that book, and I can make your body sing as I do it.”
Somewhere at the back of Spencer’s mind, he feels almost amused at just how quickly Hotch has been able to find things to push his intellectual brain and hopelessly romantic heart to their limits. “Okay,” he murmurs, gripping Hotch’s bare shoulders. “Take me. Recite to me.”
Hotch lifts him easily, stealing a deep, warm kiss before he begins carrying his love upstairs. “Let’s see. Which one should I do? I know your favorites… Annabell Lee… any of the sonnets… but I’m thinking something a little more delicate…”
Spencer makes a soft little “oh” as he’s lowered delicately onto the silk sheets of the bed, thunder rumbling around them. “Delicate…?”
“Mhm…” Hotch gently caresses Spencer’s cheek, feeling the blood-warm skin there. “Something as delicate as you… Something like… She walks in beauty in the night, like the night… Of cloudless climes and starry skies…”
“Oh,” Spencer gasps as he feels Hotch’s hands slide up his shirt, finding his sensitive chest already warmed with blush, and adorned with pebbled, stiff nipples. Spencer’s eyes are already fluttering back in his skull at the delicate touch, as Hotch continues,
“And all that’s best of dark and bright… Meet in her aspect and her eyes,” another hickey is sucked into his neck; “Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”
”A-Aaron…” Spencer gasps softly, feeling Hotch’s hands slide from his nipples down his back, where he gently tugs on Spencer’s trousers, a silent question as the sound of their panting fills the room. Hotch gets his answer in Spencer lifting his hips, and the trousers slide off, giving way to a soft little whimper from Spencer’s throat.
“One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace…” Hotch’s hand comes to gently cup Spencer’s arousal, feeling it pulse through the thin fabric of Spencer’s boxers. He squeezes gently, making Spencer gasp and his hips stutter. “...Which waves in… every… raven tress…”
Spencer is relieved from his last layer of clothing, Hotch’s boxers long forgotten, as the pair presses themselves impossibly close, mourning every little centimeter that isn’t able to meet. There’s a warm slickness introduced to Spencer’s searing skin, which he gasps prettily at before Hotch soothes him, caressing his cheek with his free hand. “It’s okay, shh…”
Pressure gives way to hot, heady pleasure, making Spencer groan and lean his head back against the pillows. Hotch coos at him, brushing the curls from his face. “Or softly lightens o’er her face, where thoughts serenely sweet express…” he kisses the juncture of Spencer’s clavicle, tasting the sweat-salted skin there as his slick fingers move languidly in and out of Spencer’s burning body. “How pure… how dear their dwelling-place.”
“Oh… Oh, god, Aaron…” Spencer gasps into his shoulder, locking his ankles around Hotch’s waist to beg wordlessly for what he wants.
“Oh, you’re so pretty…” Hotch whispers, kissing his ear, his temple, his forehead. His hand slips from Spencer’s body, making him groan in mourning; he’s quickly placated when the slick head of Hotch’s cock replaces it, his lover shushing his desperate whimpers as he performs one swift, perfect movement, making Spencer cry out with pleasure. Never ceasing his rhythmic movements that seem to be depriving Spencer of the ability to speak, Aaron continues reciting, his breath quickening. “And on that cheek… and o’er that brow… so soft, so calm, yet eloquent…”
“please,” Spencer whines, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he clings to Hotch like a lifeline, unable to do anything more than hold on, and listen, and let himself be loved. Cherished. Treasured. Heat coils between his hips, a deep and all-consuming pull of molten need. He pulls Hotch closer with his ankles, drawing a groan from the both of them.
“Th-the smiles that win… the tints that glow, b-but tell of days in goodness spent… oh, Spencer, baby…”
“Please…” Spencer lets out a desperate moan, feeling as if his body is running away with him. “Please, Aaron, more…”
“Mmmh…” Hotch all but growls, gently gripping Spencer’s hair to guide his face up, where he can lean into the ear of his beloved and purr, “A mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent…”
“Please, please, please…” Spencer’s nails dig into Hotch’s back as he lets loose honeyed whines. Hotch’s hand traces Spencer’s cheek, making soft little groans of his own.
“Come for me, Spencer,” he mumbles breathily, “show me why men write poetry.”
“Nngh- Hotch- Yes!” Spencer sobs with relief, feeling his thighs tremble as he pulls Hotch impossible close, moaning and arching his back. “Oh, god, I love you…!”
Hotch moans, his hips stuttering as he lets Spencer pull him over the edge as well, placing open-mouthed kisses to his neck, helplessly desperate. “So good, Spencer, my angel… shh, breathe…” he blinks the stars from his eyes, delicately brushing his curls from his eyes. “There you are… oh, my love…” he pets his cheek with his thumb as Spencer gasps for breath, his pupils dilated as he comes down from his high, still seated in his body, feeling him pulse and tremble.
“fuck… Aaron… oh,” Spencer gasps, reaching up and cupping his face to kiss him eagerly. Hotch returns the kiss and smiles, pulling back to murmur,
“Eloquent, aren’t you…?”
“Shut up,” Spencer laughs breathlessly, holding him close. “Stay with me…”
“Always,” Hotch kisses his forehead, pulling him close. “Always, Spencer.”